


The New Beginning

by tellyoscar



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grimes Family 2.0, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellyoscar/pseuds/tellyoscar
Summary: Michonne is in search of a fresh start when a zombie apocalypse begins with the occurrence a global zombie virus that affects all living humans. In a desperate fight for survival new relationships are formed while old ones are severed. Can people fall in love in an apocalypse? (Richonne. Time Frame: Beginning of the zombie apocalypse)





	1. The Fresh Start

**Chapter One: The Fresh Start**

_“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.”_ – E.A. Bucchianeri

* * *

 

Michonne sighed in relief, as she pulled in front of her house. Her entire day at work had been hell and she was eager to salvage the remainder of the day by lying in bed and enjoying the comfort of her newly acquired home in a tiny rural town in Kings County, Georgia. A year ago, she would have been turned off by such a place, however it was now a welcome change.

As her stiletto clad feet hit the paved driveway, she took note of the Sheriff’s car parked in front of the house next to hers and the bicycle left haphazardly on the lawn, a sure sign of neighboring children. She smiled, basking in the comfort she felt with living next door to the town’s sheriff. Across the street, Carol Peletier was seated on her front porch quietly observing Michonne. She waved languidly at the inquisitive woman as she moved toward her front door.

Once inside, Michonne immediately kicked off her heels, wriggling her aching toes with a satisfied groan. She sauntered into her living room, turning on the lamps as she went and tossed her jacket on a nearby chair. She flopped onto her couch with a heavy sigh, attempting to clear her busy mind. She remained on the couch for come time soundlessly removing the hairpins that held her dreadlocks styled away from her face, before making her way to her upstairs in search of more comfortable clothing.

The shrill ringing of her cell phone filled her bedroom as she dug through and unpacked box attempting to find her fuzzy slippers.

“Hello?”

_“Hey Mich.”_

A broad smile spread across her face at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Hey Sasha. What’s up?”

“ _We’re thinking about coming down next weekend instead. Noah might be coming down with something.”_ Michonne could hear the slight worry in her sister’s voice.

Her eyes darted to a box marked Photos and she once again felt the clutches of grief creep up on her again. Her throat thickened and she lightly kicked the box away to hide the label. She attempted to clear her mind before the tears emerged.

“That’s fine,” Michonne assured her sister as she hastily exited her bedroom and descended the stairs, approached the kitchen. “I’m sorry my nephew isn’t feeling well. Give him a kiss for me.”

_"I’m so sorry for canceling on you. I hate that you’re alone and so far away from your family.”_

“I’m fine Sasha. I might have some plans for the weekend anyway,” she lied, not wanting her sister to worry.

_“I know you are. I just wish you were closer.”_

“I’m less than two hours away and I like it here,” she said truthfully. “I needed the change after...” Michonne left the sentence there. It would have been too painful to finish. She opened the refrigerator in search of leftovers.

_“I understand Mich. I’m just a worrier and I miss you.”_

“I’ve only been officially gone for a week Sasha.” Michonne popped some food from the day before in the oven and poured herself a glass of wine.

_“How was your first day back at work?”_

“Shitty,” she groaned, rolling her eyes at the memory as she took a sip of wine. “I might just quit. That would be another very welcome change.”

Michonne heard her sister’s sigh of disapproval on the other end of the phone. Sasha had difficulty hiding her disagreement with Michonne’s new and spontaneous life changes. Especially due to grief being the major catalyst.

_“Michonne are you sure you don’t want to –”_

“Sorry Sash I’m getting another call,” Michonne lied, cutting Sasha off. She knew what her sister was going to say and she couldn’t hear it again. She already made her choices about her new beginning and she refused to be swayed. “It looks like work. Talk to you later, okay? Tell Bob and Noah I said hi.” She swiftly ended the call and retrieved her plate.

As Michonne jabbed at her food, the sound of her ringing doorbell filled the room. She groaned in mild irritation as she approached the door, deliberating on whether she should bother answering whoever it was. She swung open the door to find Carol Peletier along with her daughter Sophia and a familiar dark-haired little boy.

“Hi, we’ve met before,” Carol said, in a slightly agitated tone. “I live across the street.” Michonne observed that she was holding a covered ceramic container.

“Yes,” Michonne offered a smile. “Carol, right?”

“That’s right,” she smiled tremulously. “This is my Sophia, as you already know, and this is Carl. He’s Sheriff Grimes’ son. He lives next door.”

“Hi.” Michonne gave a small wave, still trying to discern what it was that Carol wanted. She anxiously wanted to return to her meal and enjoy the evening of solace she desperately craved.

“I’m sorry for asking this, but could you possibly do me a massive favor?”

 _Oh please no_ , Michonne thought, dreading what the woman was about to ask. In that moment she realized that this would be something she would to miss about living in the city. There would be much more neighborly interaction here. She was in one of those towns where everybody knew everything about everybody and functioned like an extended family.

“What is it?” She asked, keeping a set expression, even though she already had an idea of what Carol’s answer would be. She felt the familiar tightening in her throat.

“Keep a quick eye on Carl and Sophia for me? I won’t be gone very long and they’ve already had dinner,” she said in an unsteady voice. “Please? It’s a bit of an emergency. It’ll only be about a half hour.”

Michonne took a small, inconspicuous step forward, gazing to her left in a swift and subtle search of the Sheriff’s car that was parked out front close to an hour before. It was missing now. She saw the desperation in the woman’s face and, against her better judgment, offered a small smile, ignoring the ache in her chest and answered, “Sure.”

“Thank you so much. I would normally ask the Jones’ but they’re out of town,” Carol said hastily. She handed Michonne the dish and Michonne took notice of her slightly unsteady hands. “This is for you. Welcome to the neighborhood again!”

With that, she spun around and virtually sprinted off the porch, leaving Michonne standing, mouth agape, with two somewhat confused eight-year olds.

“Um…well come inside.” She stepped aside for them to enter. “I’m Michonne.”

“You have a really nice house Miss Michonne,” Carl commented, as they entered the kitchen.

“Thank you. It’s just Michonne. No ‘Miss’ necessary.” She smiled gently at the boy as she put the dish on her marble countertop. The kitchen and living room were two of the first rooms she unpacked.

Michonne was unsure of what to do with the two children. It had been some time since she interacted with children other than Noah.

“Do you have any kids?” Carl asked, almost sounding as if he were trying to make small talk. He glanced around the room as if he expected a child to emerge upon hearing his question.

Michonne shook her head. “No, I don’t. You guys want to watch TV or something?” she asked, hoping that would keep them busy until Carol returned.

“Sure,” they answered. Something about their voices made them sound almost low in spirit. She chalked it up to them probably being tired.

Michonne grabbed her deserted plate and ushered them to the living room, handing Carl the remote. “You can watch whatever.” She silently watched the two children interact as she attempted to eat the remainder of her dinner.

Her mind flooded with painful memories of a scene similar to the one before her. It was at times like this it felt as if the grief was going to stifle her.

“You live here alone?” Carl asked, breaking her out of her reverie. His inquisitive eyes darted around her neat and spacious living room. The way it was decorated reminded him of pictures he saw in his mother’s magazines about houses.

“Yes.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine.

“Why?” he questioned. “Don’t you get lonely?”

“You shouldn’t ask adults personal questions Carl,” Sophia interrupted apprehensively.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s just that, I know my Dad gets lonely sometimes and he even has me.”

Michonne couldn’t help but smile at the boy. “It does get lonely here sometimes, but I’m okay with it. I like it that way.”

Carl gave her an incredulous look. “Well I don’t like being lonely. That’s why I have friends and my Dad. Oh and sometimes my Mom.” It didn’t escape Michonne’s notice that he used the word sometimes.

“I have family and friends too,” she chortled. “I have a sister named Sasha and a Nephew around your age. His name is Noah.”

“Cool,” he smiled as if he was happy to hear that she had people in her life. “Where are they?”

She was surprisingly unbothered by his curiosity. “They live in the city but they are coming to visit me next weekend.”

“Okay,” he grinned. “When your nephew comes, maybe he can come over and play with me and Sophia.”

“Maybe,” Michonne allowed. She had yet to meet the Sheriff or Carl’s mother. The most she had seen of the family was the Sheriff’s car and Carl’s bicycle. Carl’s attention returned to the TV as a new show started and Michonne was once again lost in the tangled web that was now her mind. She was completely unaware of how long they sat there until she glanced at the clock and noticed it was nearing nine forty-five.  
Carol should have been back already.

Michonne stood, heading to the kitchen with her empty plate. Where on earth is Carol?

She peered out of the front door, looking for signs that anyone was home at Carol’s. She noticed a light was on in one of the upstairs rooms, but everything was quiet otherwise. She glanced down the street to the Grimes house and the cruiser was still missing.

 _What is going on?_ It worried her that she had no contact information for Carol, who had now been gone for two and a half hours.

“Did your Mom say where she was going?” Michonne asked as she reentered the living room.  
Sophia looked up before quickly glancing away and Carl just shrugged his shoulders.

“What about your Dad?” she asked Carl.

“He said there was an emergency so he left me with Mrs. P. He said he’d be back by bedtime. It’s forty-five minutes past bedtime though.”

Michonne nodded, heading to the entryway again. She felt Carl’s presence not far behind her. “Michonne?” he whispered. She turned around wondering why he was whispering. She figured it had something to do with the little girl in the next room. Carl’s brow furrowed as he looked up at her anxiously.

“I think something happened.” His voice was still low. “At Sophia’s house. There was a lot of noise and I think I saw blood.”

“What are you –“ Michonne was interrupted by a loud knock at the door behind her. “Hold on.” She let out a weary sigh, opening the door without looking through the peephole.

A dark-haired man in a Sheriff’s uniform stood on the other side, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. “Hi I’m Rick Grimes. I live next door. I think my son might be here.” He spoke in a throaty southern drawl. She half expected him to tip his large Sheriff’s hat at her. He held up the piece of paper. “Carol left a note on her door.”

“Hi I’m Michonne.” She reached out to shake his hand. “Your son is here, along with Carol’s daughter.” Carl’s head popped out from behind her as she said this.

“Hey Dad!”

“Sophia’s here too?” His blue eyes, which matched his son’s, widened in surprise. He offered his son a small smile. “I wonder where Carol went. Did she say anything about where she was going?”

Michonne shook her head and gave a small shrug, leaning against the doorjamb. “She said something about an emergency, but that was it.”

“Thank you so much for watching them Michonne.” She smiled at the correct pronunciation of her name. People often pronounced it wrong on the first attempt. “I’m sorry if this inconvenienced you in any way.”

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off. “They’re great kids.” She smiled at Carl, who was now standing next to her. “I enjoyed the company.” She was surprised at how true her statement was as the words left her lips.

“Michonne lives alone Dad,” Carl interjected. “She also gets lonely like you.”

Rick Grimes’ face reddened in embarrassment as his eyes darted everywhere, except for at the woman in front of him. “Oh, wow,” Rick laughed. “Okay Carl. Go get Sophia.”

When the boy disappeared into the house he finally looked at Michonne apologetically. “I…I don’t…kids,” he chuckled, fixing his eyes on a spot near her head. “They just say whatever they’re thinking.”

“I get it,” she laughed, feeling a little embarrassed as well. I should have invited him inside, she thought.

“Thanks again Michonne.” Rick said once Carl reemerged with Sophia. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

Michonne waved as they descended her front steps. As she shut the front door behind her, she was reminded of her brief conversation with Carl before his father showed up. She quickly stood on her tiptoes peering at the now eerily silent house across the street. She let out an audible gasp at what she saw.

The light on the second floor was now off.


	2. The End

**Chapter Two: The End**

_"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."_  - Seneca

* * *

Michonne stretched on her bed as the sun's rays from the window hit her face. She shut her eyes tighter, still fatigued after a night of restless sleep, plagued with her recurring nightmare yet again. It was always the same. She would try to catch him and he was always slightly out of her reach. No matter what she did and how she tried, she could not catch him. The dream ended with boyish laughter and the smell of burning rubber.

"What's wrong with me?" she groaned, rubbing her tired eyes as they adjusted to the morning light gleaming through her blinds. She felt the telltale signs of the tears she had shed before she woke. Was it normal to wake up in tears?

Her teary eyes drifted to the digital clock on her bedside table.

_9:27 am_

_Shit,_  she thought. In the midst of the events from the previous night, she did not remember to set her alarm and she was now late for work. She groaned in frustration as she to imagine Mr. Smith's overreaction. Tardiness had never been an issue when it came to Michonne, but he would certainly find a way to overemphasize her blunder. An oddly appealing thought crept into her mind and she felt a small smile forming on her face.

_Am I really going to do this?_  She thought.  _What the hell._

Perhaps it was time to let the chips fall where they may.

Michonne kicked off her covers, letting them spill to the floor as she jumped out of bed and entered her half unpacked closet. She dug through her clothes, pulling out a pair of loose fitting whitewashed jeans and a tank top and throwing them on. She then laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket and grabbed her purse and keys and left the house.

Her piercing, off-key singing filled her small car as she sang along to her favorite tunes, blasting through her stereo. She drove the now familiar route to the law firm in the city filled with anticipation about continuing her streak of spontaneous life changes.

"Good morning Michonne," called Mr. Paul, the doorman. He was one of the most pleasant people she ever met and his wife was the same. She usually stopped for a quick chat in the mornings, but today she had a crucial task to undertake.

Michonne beamed, waving cheerfully at the older gentleman. Her high spirits surprised him. She sauntered through the building, a jovial woman on an exhilarating mission.

"There you are." The acerbic face of Mr. Smith materialized before her. His frightful comb-over looked ghastlier than usual and he seemed to have spent too much time in the tanning bed again. "You're late. Do you believe that sort of thing is okay? Don't even bother apologizing because apologies are not enough. I'm an understanding man. I know you've had a loss, but I will not make special allowances for you. You need to get–"

"I quit."

A look of shock crossed his heated face as if she had uttered the most offensive words he had ever heard. "Excuse me?"

"I said," Michonne spoke slowly and carefully as if she were explaining the color of the sky to a child. "I. Quit. I do not want to  _work_  for you anymore. I came here to let you know in person and to clear out my things. I'll mail you resignation."

"Why you ungrateful twit," he sneered, as his skin turned red-orange. "You do  _not_  get to quit. You're fired!"

"Whatever you want to call it." She smiled sardonically and gave an untroubled shrug. In that moment she felt truly carefree. "At the end of the day, I will not be your employee anymore."

He pointed a chunky carroty finger at her. "Don't start believing you're anything special. There's plenty more where you came from."

"Sad to hear," Michonne said sarcastically, feeling anything but blue. "Is that why you were searching so  _desperately_  for me? I'm sure you'll find another one like me to pile your nastiness on. Let's see if they'll put up with the bullshit as long as I did." She stepped around the fuming orange man. "I'll be out of the building in ten minutes tops. See you around Jack!"

_I've decided to live._

The eyes of her of her coworkers stuck to her like glue as she walked through the office with her head held high. She quickly got to work on emptying her desk. She made sure not to look at the pictures in the overturned picture frames in her bottom drawer. The grief counselor had said it would be better to face it before negative emotions started building. He said suppressing her emotions would make things worse. She ignored him. He wasn't the one that had to live with the past.

Avoidance was easier, less painful.

Ten minutes later, Michonne was strutting to her car, the contents of her desk in hand. She felt like the most powerful person in the world. As she drove away, she felt the lightness of another weight being lifted. When she drove past her old apartment building, she felt a pang of grief, but it was not as terrible as on previous occasions. She was truly ready to begin again.

When she pulled into her driveway, she spotted Rick, Carl and Sophia outside the Grimes' house. Carl was on his bike and Sophia was picking flowers from the small garden in front of the house.

"Michonne!" Carl stopped his bike and started waving happily at Michonne as she got out of her car. She waved at the boy, still surprised at how much it didn't pain her to do so. His father waved as well, but more in a way that indicated he wanted to converse.

"Hey." Michonne stood, arms akimbo, smiling politely at the Sheriff as he approached her. His outfit was dissimilar to the one from the previous day, opting for jeans and a blue button-down. She couldn't help but notice that the Sheriff was a handsome man.

"How are you?" Rick asked, leaning against the handrail of her porch steps. He offered her a warm smile before becoming unusually interested in his shoes.

"Absolutely wonderful," she giddily smiled, still marveling in the high that came with her newfound spontaneity. She hadn't felt this happy in weeks. "I just quit my job."

"Oh," he said, pressing his lips together in amusement. "You seem to be happy about that. Should I be congratulating you?"

Michonne laughed and nodded her head. "Maybe."

"Congratulations to you," Rick chuckled. "Maybe you should celebrate."

"I plan to. There's a glass of wine with my name on it," she laughed. "New town, new job."

"That's right. A new town." Curiosity filled his voice and eyes. "What brings you to King County?"

"Change of scenery," Michonne replied vaguely as she searched for a change of subject. She glanced over to where Carl and Sophia were chasing each other around the yard. "By the way, did you figure out the Carol situation? Is she alright?"

Rick let out a breath of air, crossing his arms. "I actually wanted to ask you about that. I still have no idea where she is. Have you seen or heard anything at all? This isn't like Carol. She wouldn't just leave for such a long time without saying anything."

Her heart sped up as an uneasy feeling coursed through her.  _I knew I should have gone over there to tell him about Carl,_  she thought anxiously. "I forgot to mention this to you last night, but Carl told me something might have happened while he was over there," she confessed. "It slipped my mind. I should have probably told you."

Rick nodded his head. "Carl told me about that as soon as we got home. He thought he saw blood or something." He looked over his shoulder at the house behind them.

"There was a light on in one of the upstairs rooms and when I looked over there later in the night, it was off. I assumed she had just returned home."

Rick furrowed his brow, seemingly deep in thought. "I'm going to go over there and check things out. Carol keeps a spare key somewhere." He glanced over at the playing children. "Are–"

"I'll keep an eye on them," she said before he could continue. She was anxious to get to the bottom of what was going on. She ruminated on the previous day? Was there something she missed?

Michonne watched as Rick crossed the street, unhurriedly approaching Carol's house as she made her way to where Carl and Sophia were playing.

"Hey guys!" she said, taking a seat on the Grimes' front step. "How's it going?"

"Hi Michonne. Did you take the day off like my Dad?" Carl asked, as he approached her, pushing his bicycle.

"Something like that," she answered. "I've decided that I need a different job."

"What's wrong with your old one?"

"Honestly?" She leaned back against the steps, looking up at the unclouded sky. "I hated it. There was really no point in continuing. I just want to be happy."

"That's awesome," Carl smiled. "You should be happy. What are you going to do now?"

"I have no idea," she said with a blithe shrug. "Maybe I'll take a nice long vacation. I always wanted to be a writer. Plus, I like art and I have a pretty cool sword collection. I'm gonna start there and see where it leads me. I'll let you know how it goes."

"That's so cool!" He exchanged a look with Sophia, who as usual, was quietly and attentively listening. She was a very skittish little girl. "Swords? Can we see them?"

She discreetly glanced over at Carol's house in an attempt to see if Rick had reemerged. "I only brought my katana with me," she said. "The others are with my sister in the city."

"You're not like other adults," he mused. "You don't talk to me like I'm a dumb little kid plus you're really cool."

She threw her head back with a genuine burst of laughter. She was discovering that she enjoyed talking to Carl. He reminded her of Noah in the way that they were both wise beyond their years. "I'm glad someone thinks I'm cool." She thought about how pissed Sasha would be when she broke the news of her most recent drastic change. She felt as if even more changes were still to come.

Carl and Sophia returned to their game and Michonne was once again lost in her reverie. Looking at the children play brought back memories of a similar scene from the previous year. She would often try to suppress all thoughts of the past four years of her life, but it was becoming more difficult. Sometimes she couldn't stop herself from reminiscing about a happier guilt and grief-free time of her life when she had a little person that meant the world to her.

Michonne looked up to find Rick ambling towards her, his ashen face, causing her anxiety to return tenfold. "What's going on?" she mouthed. She hastily rose to her feet, approaching him to make sure Carl and Sophia were out of earshot.

Rick shook his head. "It's bad." His voice was low. "She's in there, but she seems disoriented. Ed is dead. She just kept mumbling that he wasn't really dead and he was going to come back again." He rubbed a hand over his weary face. "It looks like she was trying to get rid of the body. I've never seen something so brutal. I need to call for backup. She might need a Psych Eval."

"Michonne collects swords Dad," Carl said, approaching them. He tilted his head to the, carefully observing his father. He could clearly see the tension in the man's face. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"I'm fine Carl," Rick said tightly, trying to force a smile in an attempt to, for a little while longer, protect his son from the horrors that would soon plague them.

Somehow, Michonne was able to find her voice in spite of her racing mind. It felt as if her heart was in her throat. "You and Sophia can come over now and see it," she said, realizing the streets would soon overflow with a chaotic cacophony of blaring sirens and flashing blue and red lights. Neither the children, nor she, were prepared to witness such a feat.

"Alright," Carl said slowly. He carefully examined the demeanors of both Rick and Michonne and he knew something was amiss.

Rick gave Michonne an appreciative nod as she approached her house, Carl and Sophia in tow. It felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience. She was vaguely aware of her actions as she ushered them into her house, locking the door behind her.

"Are you okay?" She heard someone, probably Carl, ask. It felt as if she was underwater and they were speaking to her from the surface. It was as if she had left her body. She heard herself assuring someone that she was fine, even though she was anything but. She came to Kings County for an escape and yet death and tragedy still managed to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Review and let me know what you think. So…Michonne. What's going on there? Any ideas? We will get more insight in the coming chapters.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. See you soon for the next chapter! I'm looking forward to the apocalypse and I hope you are too!


	3. The Beginning

**Chapter Three: The Beginning**

_"…So when the last and dreadful hour_

_This crumbling pageant shall devour,_

_The trumpet shall be heard on high,_

_The dead shall live, the living die,_

_And Music shall untune the sky"_

_–_ John Dryden,  _The Major Works_

* * *

"This is  _really_ cool!" Carl's ecstatic declaration filled the room. "It's called a katana?" She was standing with her arms extended, as she displayed her Katana for the two children to observe.

"Yep," she nodded, feeling a small sense of pride in her impressive bauble. "It has a smaller dagger called a Tantos to go along with it. I also have a Nimcha, a Flyssa, a Khopesh, an Akrafena and a Shona Bakatwa from Zimbabwe at my sister's place. You won't know what those are but I can show you once I get them. The Akrafena is probably my favorite because it is extremely difficult to get these days. And my Bakatwa once belonged to my great uncle. It's more of a dagger than a sword. You'll understand when you see it." She appraised the glistening blade of one of her most prized possessions. She was looking forward to expanding her collection.

"I wish I could see them now," he said, with a pensive smile. "I used to collect bugs last summer, but that's not as cool as collecting swords. Do you ever use it? Can you fight with it?"

She smiled at his genuine excitement. "I can certainly handle the sword, but no, I haven't  _fought_  with it. I'd like to think I'd be pretty good at it if I ever did though."

"Are you a secret samurai Michonne?" Carl asked teasingly.

"If it's a secret, I can't tell you."

He laughed rambunctiously. "It'd be awesome if you could fight like a samurai or challenge people to duels like in medieval times." He turned to Sophia, holding up an imaginary sword and playfully taking a defensive stance. "I am the greatest warrior in the land. I challenge you to a duel," he announced, attempting to imitate a deep hulking voice.

Sophia giggled, pretending to pull out an imaginary sword as well. Michonne laughed at their silliness. They were a welcome distraction.

"Why don't you go find something to watch on TV in the living room," she suggested, as she returned the katana to its case.

"Okay." Carl nodded, turning to Sophia. "You can pick this time Sophia."

Michonne ambled toward the stairs after making sure Carl and Sophia were properly distracted by the television. Once upstairs, Michonne found herself in her bathroom, string blankly at the weary woman in the mirror. "When does this all end?" she mumbled to herself, turning on the faucet to wash her face. She desperately wanted to regain peace of mind. It felt as if things were falling apart again. She had come to know this devastating feeling intimately.

Her cell phone vibrated furiously in her pocket. She reached for a face towel, wiping her face while retrieving the phone. "Hello," she croaked, barely glancing at the name on the screen.

_"Michonne!"_  Sasha's frantic voice echoed through the phone. " _Are you alright?"_

"Not really," she sighed, as she slid to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and slightly curling her body into a ball. She was prepared to share the recent tragedies.

_"What's wrong? Have you seen what's going on? It's all over the internet. Dead people are coming back to life and they're attacking people and eating them."_

She absently nibbled at her thumb nail, a new habit she had picked up. "Like that thing that happened in Florida with the bath salts?"

_"I don't know."_  Her voice rose in terror, alerting Michonne that this was something serious.  _"This is different. I've never seen anything like this."_

Michonne gingerly stood on shaky feet, entering her bedroom. She retrieved the remote and switched on her TV, finding a news channel. The words 'Breaking News' flashed across the screen in bold letters as a man with perfectly coiffed hair appeared.

_"There have been various unconfirmed reports across many countries and states of corpses reanimating and attacking civilians. These stories may sound like the inventive plot of a Hollywood movie, but the reports are flocking in and social media is bombarded with images and videos of what looks like corpses…walking…and brutally attacking."_

_"Now, there is still a possibility that this could all be just an elaborate hoax,"_  He cautioned.  _"There have been similar instances in the past involving YouTube Pranksters. It could also be some kind of drug pha –"_ The man paused, as he received information from his earpiece. His face grew serious.  _"We have some breaking news. We must warn you that these images may be graphic."_  The screen cut to a live feed of a large Atlanta hospital, with what looked like human corpses, some drenched in blood, stumbling out of the front doors.

Michonne gasped audibly. "What on earth is going on? That can't possibly be real."

" _We are now receiving news that London, Tokyo, New York City, Sao Paulo, Seoul and many other large metropolitan areas are being swarmed with these walking corpses. We are currently contacting the CDC and the World Health Organization, but so far there seems to be no word on what this could possibly be."_

A loud scream erupted from her hands, reminding her of her sister's presence on the other end of the phone. "Sasha?"

_"Oh my God! They're here,"_  she shrieked. " _Outside! Bob!"_

"Who? Sasha what is it?"

_"The dead ones! They're out there. They're filling the streets. I have to go."_  Michonne could hear the fear and agitation in her voice. She heard her yell for Bob again.  _"I'm going to try to call Dad. I'll call you back."_

Michonne dialed her sister again, getting no answer. She scrolled through her Facebook and twitter feed. Society was now in a shambolic state. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing. It couldn't possibly be real.

She bounded towards the stairs, trying to gather her thoughts as she went to find the children. She found them lying on their stomachs watching TV, oblivious to the chaos that was erupting in the outside world. Carl looked up as she entered while Sophia's eyes remained glued to the images in front of her.

"Are you feeling sick?" he asked, most likely recognizing the mixture of terror and bleakness in her face. "Sophia and I can go home if you want us to."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the shrill ringing of the doorbell distracted her. "Wait here. Don't move." She sprinted to the door, spying an agitated Rick on the other side.

"We have a major problem," he stated once she pulled the door open. As she stepped back to allow him to enter, she spotted two police cars pulling away from Carol's house.

"We might have another major one," she replied. "What is it?"

"Only two cars showed up," he said in a low voice in an attempt to avoid alerting the children in the other room. "Almost everyone in the department is out. Apparently there's some kind of mess in downtown Atlanta. I keep hearing conflicting stories about a synthetic meth drug ring and dead people coming to life and eating other people."

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I just saw that on the news and my sister said whatever it is, is pretty serious. I've never heard her sound so afraid and from what I saw on the news, this is serious. It's terrifying."

Rick groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can this day get any worse?"

"How's Carol?"

"My partner, Shane just left with her. He's taking her down to the station for questioning in the meantime. He says the situation downtown should be handled by the end of the day. I would have gone with him, but I have the kids. I'll probably head down there later, after Carl's mother comes for him. Hopefully everything downtown is settled by then." That was the first time Michonne had heard mention of the boy's mother.

"I wonder what happened," Michonne ruminated. She hadn't known Carol for a long time and she had no way of knowing if something was amiss in the Peletier house. Conversely, she was convinced something terrible must have happened to lead Carol to commit such a heinous act. It couldn't have come out of nowhere.

"She took an axe to his head and hacked off his limbs. It seems like she was trying to hide the body by making it more manageable and then she just went off. She lost her mind. She said he couldn't die."

Michonne eyes widened in surprise. The image of Ed Peletier's severed head and dismantled body flashing through her mind.

Rich shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. I really shouldn't be –"

"Do you think it has anything to do with what's happening out there?" she asked, as she started making connections. People appeared to be returning from the dead.

"The dead thing?" He asked, sounding doubtful. He shook his head. "The guys made that sound like –"

"From what I just saw on the news, it looks like it can be a possibility. It might even be a global thing. They said it's happening in a bunch of cities, so why not here? Something tells me, this  _isn't_  about synthetic drugs. This isn't going to be something we can even  _begin_  to understand."

Rick seemed deep in thought. "But how is that even possible?"

"That's probably the question the world is asking now." She glanced down at her phone, remembering her sister's frantic voice. She said a rare silent prayer that they were okay and whatever this was would be over soon.

* * *

**~TNB~**

_"Mommy?" The little boy ran into the room in search of his mother. His somnolent eyes appraised the room until they finally focused on the slender woman standing at the kitchen counter. She was speaking animatedly to a seated man when she heard his small voice._

_"Look who's up!" A smile spread across her exquisitely beautiful face as she leaned down, arms extended, waiting for him to run into her nurturing arms._

_The boy tilted his head to the side and a mischievous grin spread across his brown face, all lethargy gone. "Catch me," he laughed. With that, he bounded away from her._

_"Andre, baby no!" she called. "Be careful. Mommy doesn't want you to fall."_

_He turned around, meeting her eyes. "Catch me, Mommy." He stood in front of one of the many large windows inside the high-rise apartment. The window stood wide open and the sounds of the city filled the room. His mother could hear the car blaring horns of cars and smell the scent of gasoline, rubber and burning oil._

_"Aunty Sa!" The boy was leaning over the windowsill, waving at someone below. His mother slowly walked towards him, gasping in terror at the sight of the city below her. It was swarmed with the walking dead._

Michonne jolted awake at the sound soft knocking against her glass. She looked up to meet Rick Grimes' anxious eyes through her car window. She rolled the glass down. "Hey," she said, unable to hide her despair. She rubbed her tear-stained cheeks. Her other hand held her phone in a tight death grip.

Michonne had tried to reach her father and received nothing but a busy tone. After that, she dialed Sasha's number for what felt like a million times. There was no answer. She was desperate to her sister's voice assuring her that she and her family were safe. She wanted to hear the happy voice of Noah and Bob's optimistic outlook on life. She wanted her father's comforting and rational voice.

If Rick noticed her teary face, he pretended otherwise. "Things are getting crazier," he informed her. "Nobody seems to know what's going on."

"Yeah." Her voice was hoarse from all the tears she shed after coming to sit in her car hours before. After Rick had left with the kids, she fully intended to drive to the city to find her sister. "We can't leave. I was trying to reach my sister. She's in the city and…"

Rick nodded his head in understanding, recognizing her inability to continue. "I can't reach my ex-wife. She's a nurse at Piedmont." She could hear the worry and desperation in his voice. "I was going to head to the station, but Shane says the main road is blocked off. Plus with the curfew and everything, we're really not supposed to be out." He leaned against the car, facing away from her. "You should go inside. It's not safe to be out here. They say we should stay indoors."

Michonne shook her head slowly. Her safety was the last thing on her mind. She just wanted to know that her only family was okay. She squeezed the phone tighter as a voice that had now become familiar to her, echoed over the radio. She had the words memorized with how often it repeated.

Every ten minutes.

**_"The military has taken action to neutralize the threat that has overtaken cities and towns all across America. This is now a crisis on a global scale and the cause is still unknown. Millions have been brutally killed. All flights are grounded and there are now mandatory curfews in effect across various states. Civilians should remain in their homes, set up barricades and keep noise to a limit."_ **

**_" The President has declared a state of emergency and advised American citizens to remain cautious and avoid large cities if possible. Emergency busses, manned by the military are now transporting civilians away from heavily affected areas to designated safe zones."_ **

"This is really happening," she said softly. "It's not a hoax and it's obviously not drugs. The dead are coming back and devouring the alive." Michonne laughed humorlessly. "How is any of this  _real_? I'm living in a fucking post-apocalyptic novel. I'm living in one of my nightmares."

Rick's head slowly shook from side to side. "If this is a nightmare, I'm ready to wake up. I don't even know what to tell my son. I've been keeping them away from the news." He looked up at the darkening sky. "I'm confident in our military though. This will all be over soon."

Michonne let out a sigh of frustration. "I wish I could be that optimistic. I know this will end, but at what cost? When the military, WHO and the CDC finally figure this out, how much will we have lost?"

"I don't know."

"You're probably going to have to tell him something soon enough though. Who knows how long this is going to take? Plus, it'll probably be only a matter of time before they start filling  _our_  streets." Michonne glanced down the quiet street of their small neighborhood. She noticed at least two families leaving earlier in the day and the others that were left, probably two or three, had retreated into their homes to wait out the crisis. She wished she had the nerve to leave when she initially had the urge. Now, there was no going back.

"Come on," Rick said, leaning off the car. He reached for her door handle, opening the door. "It's getting dark. I made dinner and you should come over. We'll wait this out together. There's really no point on being alone at a time like this."

The radio sputtered.

**_"This just in, after an afternoon of severe thunderstorms that left a military helicopter in flames, the national whether service has issued a tornado warning is in effect for Atlanta and the surrounding area. Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Damages to windows and vehicles will occur. Please be prepared and take precautionary action."_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Does it feel like the apocalypse yet? I feel like this is how things would go down if a successful zombie apocalypse were to happen. It will build up and initially people won't completely believe that the world is actually ending. Then chaos will ensue of course.
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think. I appreciate any feedback. See you all next chapter!


	4. The Black Wing

**Chapter Four: The Black Wing**

_"In her mind's eye she saw it, saw it all at last: the rolling armies and the flames of battle; the graves and pits and dying cries of a hundred million souls; the spreading darkness, like a black wing stretching over the earth…death's great dominion over all, and, at the last, empty cities, becalmed by the silence of a hundred years. Already these things were coming to pass."_

\- Justin Cronin,  _The Passage_

* * *

 

Their faces were frozen in shock as they stood staring at the television. A feeling of dread settled over the room and the modicum of contentment they shared over dinner moments before was forgotten.

Atlanta was covered in the walking corpses and the first of what would be a series of vicious tornadoes had ripped through the city leaving death and destruction in its wake. CNN newscasters and other staff were trapped within their station and the military was having trouble containing the situation. The outbreak was global and the number of the walkers appeared to be multiplying faster than anybody could anticipate.

The world was in a shambolic state.

"Dad?" Carl's voice was filled with fear. "What's happening? What does this mean?"

Rick looked at his son, unable to offer him any concrete answers. Carl, who scarcely paid close attention to the news, was able to recognize the apparent change. It was clear that something terrible and unusual was occurring in the world and it prompted their attention. Rick squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I don't know everything about what's happening out there, but we're going to be alright. This will all be over soon."

Carl looked dubiously at his father. "This is scary. Everyone sounds afraid. They  _are_  afraid." He wrapped his arms around himself, staring at the floor. "Do you think Mom is okay? They said people died in Atlanta and she's there. Is that why she didn't come today?"

Michonne looked at the scared little boy in front of her. It pained her to see him like that and she thought of Noah and her sister. Even if people in Atlanta managed to stay out of the walker's way, there was still the matter of the multiple tornadoes.  _Were_  they still alive? Was Noah afraid? Was he wrapped in the comfort of his parent's arms?

Her hand drifted to her pocket where her phone lay. She was tempted to try them again, but dreaded the disappointment that would overtake her at the sound of the seemingly endless ringing.

"I don't know," Rick repeated. He hated not having answers and he hated seeing his son afraid and hopeless. "But what I do know is that I won't let anything happen to you. When this is over we can look for Mom. A lot of people made it out and our military is doing their best to keep us safe."

Sophia whimpered, curling against the couch. "I want my Mom."

"Are they coming here?" Carl glanced nervously towards the door. He slowly moved backward, taking a seat next to Sophia on the couch. "I'm scared, Dad."

"We'll be alright," Rick repeated. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that as well. He picked up the remote, turning off the TV and leaning down to meet the eyes of the children. "We just have to stay calm and be very careful."

"Okay," Carl answered in a small voice. Sophia whimpered in response, as fat tears spilled out of her eyes.

Rick sighed, regretting his bright idea of turning on the news while they were still in the same room. He was just too desperate to assess their situation. "Tell you what. We'll all sleep down here. I'll get pillows and some sheets and we can make a fort and stay in there until this is all over. It'll be just like old times. Sounds good?"

Carl nodded, a small hesitant smile forming on his face. "I thought I was getting too old for forts."

"Nobody's to old for blanket forts." Rick ruffled his son's hair before standing up and meeting Michonne's weary eyes, silently asking her to follow. She followed quietly behind him as they ascended the stairs.

"I read an article one about what would happen in a apocalypse," Michonne said, casually. "It said that it would be over in two hours because the military would have everything under control and we would be on our way to a cure. Our society is too advanced to come across something we can't solve. That doesn't seem to be the case now."

Rick opened a hallway closet, and started pulling sheets and blankets out, piling them into Michonne's arms. "We don't know that for sure. A solution could be on the way." He disappeared into a bedroom, returning with a stack of pillows. He paused for a moment, meeting her sad eyes. "We're gonna be fine," he assured her.

She wanted his words to be true.

She looked away, absently nodding her head. "I hope so."

"I shouldn't have done that," he sighed. "I scared them. They don't understand what's going on."

"Neither do we," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But they shouldn't have to see that. Nothin' scares kids more than seeing adults afraid without any answers. Especially when it's their parents. They need a distraction."

When they returned downstairs Carl and Sophia looked up anxiously from where they sat, huddled together on the large couch.

"I should probably head home," Michonne said, not wanting to further intrude. They were about to have a familial comforting and bonding moment and she wasn't sure if she was in the right headspace to be a part of that. She lightly dropped the sheets on the couch next to Carl. "It's getting pretty late."

Carl's head popped up and his face twisted in fear and agitation. "You want to go  _outside_? Why? I thought you were staying with us." He looked up at his father for confirmation.

"There's enough room for all of us," Rick offered with a smile, handing her some clothespins.

"Plus, we might need the expertise of a secret samurai if we are going to build a strong fort," Carl said, a small smirk forming on his previously frightened face. "Please stay?"

"I  _do_  have some experience in fort building," Michonne smiled. She was surprised at her own response. "I'll stay a little while, but then I should really head home."

"Awesome." He fist pumped the air. His fears were momentarily forgotten. "We need some chairs." He got up and scurried into the kitchen as Michonne and Rick exchanged a look of amusement.

Michonne sat down and began connecting the sheets and blankets together with clothespins. She held out the other end to the still frightened Sophia, demonstrating how it's done. The little girl began to tentatively follow her lead. As Carl and Rick returned with chairs from the dining room, her mind drifted back to a similar event in her life.

_"It's our own secret place." The little boy smiled up at his mother. In his eyes she was larger than life and his personal hero. Nothing pleased his mother more, than to see his admiration displayed without restrictions._

"Michonne!"

She was startled by the sound of Carl's raised voice. "Sorry, what was that?"

"A name," Carl answered, as if he repeated himself many times before. He held up a piece of cardboard. "What should we name the fort?"

"I…is there a particular name you like?"

"The Grimes fort!" He announced, raising his marker in the air.

"You can't name it after yourself. It's all our fort and my name is Peletier," Sophia reminded him. "I like fluffy world for a name."

He stroked his chin, looking as if deep in thought. "Neverland!"

Carl and Sophia started prattling about fort names and the importance of pirates while Michonne listened attentively with a small smile on her lips. In that little moment, it felt as if nothing was wrong in the world.

It was a little piece of paradise in the midst of the decaying world.

Two hours later, Michonne and Rick were seated outside the makeshift fortress in the middle of the Grimes living room enjoying each other's company. "Thank you," Michonne said softly, breaking their comfortable silence.

A look of mild surprise crossed Rick's face. "For what?"

She shrugged leaning back against the side of the couch. "For being a good neighbor…and for not letting me be alone. I enjoyed the company."

He shrugged. "You've been a pretty good neighbor yourself. Like I said, nobody should be alone at a time like this. Plus lonely isn't a good feelin'."

They grew quiet again until Rick finally turned his curious gaze on her. "So you like to read about the world ending? Were you preparin' for this?" She could hear the smile in his voice as he nudged her lightly. The place where his hand brushed against hers tingled.

She smiled. "Not even close." Memories of her old life flooded her mind. "A good friend of mine used to be really into that sort of thing. He was what you could call a hardcore survivalist and conspiracy theorist."

Rick raised his brow teasingly. "Just him?"

Michonne playfully rolled her eyes. " _He_  was convinced that the government was up to some top-secret shenanigans that would lead to the apocalypse. He used to go on about scientists causing global pandemics or humans being affected by invasive species." She laughed, thinking about all the moments they shared. Talking about him was much easier than she imagined. "So he stocked up on supplies like powdered milk, canned goods and…guns. I thought it was a little silly at the time, but now…"

"He's well prepared for this then," Rick chuckled. "Whatever this is."

"He would have been," she sighed, playing with a loose thread on her shirt. "I personally would have preferred a nice flu pandemic to this." Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her train of thought. She quickly reached for it, anticipation building inside her. She glanced at the caller ID, not recognizing the number.

_"Michonne?"_

"Sasha?" She locked eyes with Rick, a triumphant smile spreading across her weary face. Rick offered an encouraging smile in return.

_"Yes, it's me. There was no phone service in the city and I lost my phone, but someone lent me theirs."_ she answered tearfully.  _"Are you alright? Are you safe? Are there any dead ones?"_

"I'm fine," Michonne assured her in a low voice, not wanting to wake the children. "Our town has been quiet for the most part. Where are you? I heard about the tornadoes in Atlanta. Are you okay? Noah?"

_"We had to leave the city. It was a chaotic mess, but we managed to get on one of the emergency busses that were taking survivors out of Atlanta. I'm still on it. Thankfully, we got out before the storm hit. I still can't reach Dad and I have no idea where…"_

"Sasha?"

_"We're all safe. I'm not sure where we are, but we're safe and protected. They'll figure this out and we'll be fine. I hate that you're all alone. Please stay –"_

"Sasha?" Michonne cried desperately. "Sasha!" She hit her phone against her leg in frustration. "Damn it!"

Rick looked questioningly at her. "She okay?" His voice was hesitant.

Michonne stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. "She says they're safe. They made it out of the city and they're on one of the emergency busses, but she doesn't know exactly where they're headed. Just that it's some kind of a camp that's safe from the…everything."

Rick nodded silently, but said nothing more. Michonne glanced in his direction with a grateful smile. They had only known each other for a little more than a day, but his presence was welcome in the midst of their current situation. To her surprise, she was calmer with him and the children around.

"I'm just grateful she's okay," she stated.

Rick softly patted her hand, which was lying between them. "For now, that's all we  _can_  do. Hope for the best and be grateful for the small victories." Now that they were touching, she wanted to be closer. Her fingers closed around his as they drifted back into silence, ruminating on the demons that now haunted them.

* * *

 

Michonne jolted awake with a start, her breathing labored and skin covered with a sheen of sweat. She sat up, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "It was a dream," she whispered, groggily looking around the Grimes' living room. She didn't remember falling asleep. She had fully intended to go home at some point in the night. "It was just a dream."

She lay back against the pillows, shutting her eyes as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. "I wish," she sighed. The events of the previous day flooded back to her mind. She wiggled her blanket-covered toes. Something poked her on her back and she reached behind her to find the TV remote from the previous night. She glanced at the makeshift fort across from her, hearing what she assumed to be Carl's soft snores before turning on the television and quickly lowering the volume.

She flipped the channel to CNN. "That's strange," she mumbled, as she tied her dreads in a bun atop her head. Nothing was being broadcasted. The night before, the newsroom was panic-filled as reports of a global crisis poured in and now there was nothing but a banner with a warning message. She flipped to Fox and MSNBC and CBS, each time growing more panicked as she found nothing but a screen with a vague message from the CDC, alerting people that the world now faced unexplainable dangers and they should be vigilant and practical.

Michonne carefully climbed off the couch, retrieved her phone and dialed her parent's number as she left the room, searching for her bag and shoes as quietly as she could. As she dreaded, there was no answer from her father. She quietly retrieved her purse from the kitchen before finding her shoes on the way out.

She opened the front door of the Grimes house and gasped in horror at what she saw. Rick Grimes stood in the middle of his driveway as a sallow-faced snarling man bounded towards him, mouth ajar and eyes blank.

She watched as the sheriff frantically fumbled with the gun in the waistband of his pants, before firing a shot into the human-like creature's chest. The bullets didn't appear to have any effect on the seemingly dead man. He continued on towards Rick with even greater fervor. Rick stumbled backwards aiming his gun again, firing wildly; hitting the dead mans chest, stomach and head until he finally collapsed into a cluttered heap.

Michonne felt as if her legs were moving on autopilot as she approached Rick. "You okay?" she heard herself ask. She kneeled beside him trying to assess if there was any damage.

He lay back against the grass, breathing heavily as he looked up at her. "It's here."

She glanced back uneasily at the dead heap. "Let's get inside," she said, grabbing his arm in an attempt to help him up. If the dead was now in their neighborhood, she didn't want to stick around outside to meet any more of them or to see if this one would awaken.

He stood; giving her an appreciative nod, as they moved to wards his house. "I went outside to get something from the car and next thing I know  _he_  was in front of me. I was even plannin' on driving around town today. I need to see how things are at the station."

"Well they clearly don't die easily," she observed, her eyes scanning the front yard as they entered the house. She thought of the supposed military presence in Atlanta and how they could be handling the reanimated corpses. "What the hell  _are_  they?"

"That's what I'd like to know," he sighed with frustration and dismay. "It looked like it was the headshot that finally killed him…it." His eyes drifted to her purse. "You were headed out?"

"Yeah. I meant to go home last night, but –"

He stopped her before she could finish. "Like I said before. Safety in numbers." He pointed to the door. "That was the first one we've seen. Who knows if more aren't comin' our way? We have a better chance if we work together. We should avoid getting separated in case things go south. All of our neighbors might have already left. Mr. Clark and his family drove away just before I ran into that one. We need each other."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed; wrapping her arms around herself, an action that usually alleviated her anxiety. "More could be coming. We're far away from the affected areas on the news, but they're feeding on people and they might come looking for  _people_  to feed on."

Rick's eyes flitted to the door. "We need to secure the house just in case," he drawled. "I have a feeling waiting this out is gonna to take a while, so you should bring whatever you need from next door. And anything else that might be useful too. We're sticking together." There was finality in his tone.

Michonne nodded. "What happens if they do come here? Do you think they'll keep moving if they can't…you know?"

A dark look crossed his face. "We would need an escape plan." He scowled at the door. "And an efficient way to kill them for when the time comes."

"I wish we could see how this is being handled outside of Kings County."

"If this doesn't blow over we'll need to find one of those safe areas your sister was talking about. That will be our best bet." He rubbed his two-day-old stubble. "Go," he said. "I'll start breakfast."

Thirty minutes later a freshly showered Michonne was moving hastily through her house, filling her duffel bag with items she deemed important and useful for waiting out an apparent apocalypse. She threw in a few items of clothing, a pair of shoes, her favorite book and blanket, first aid items and her feminine products. She filled another bag with cooking and food items from her kitchen and grabbed a pillow.

As she stepped out of the house, she was faced with the second most shocking moment of the day. There were more of the dead ones in the streets. It looked to be about five of them. She peered down the street, spotting Rick in his slightly ajar doorway, wearing an equally terrified expression. He held up a hand to her and placed his finger on his lips, letting her know to remain quiet.

She quickly stepped back into her house wracking her brain for a solution to her newest predicament. She didn't have a gun and she had didn't have the slightest idea of how to pass without them noticing or attacking her. Her eyes drifted to the door of her small study, where she had stood with the children they day before and an ambitious, but dangerous idea ran through her mind.

_I can't believe I'm even considering this,_  she thought as she hoisted the strap of the bag across her chest and reached for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trapped! The walkers have arrived. What is Michonne planning to do? Find out next chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think. Especially about them sticking together.


	5. The Bodies

 

_"Bodies lay in the sun. Bodies stood in the sun."_  – N.J. Hallard

* * *

 

Gunshots rang through the normally quiet community in King County, Georgia. Michonne slowly looked up, knowing it was Rick attempting to clear the streets for her return.

Michonne took a deep breath, hoisting up her duffle bag across her shoulder before boldly swinging the front door of her house open. She spotted him immediately where he stood out in the open on his porch, firing at the walking dead. There were even more of them than the six she originally anticipated. As if in slow motion, they collapsed in the middle of the street one after the other. She knew the amount of bullets would begin to deplete soon. She mentally replayed her Iaijutsu training as adrenaline coursed through her veins. "Here goes."

Without giving it a second thought, she dexterously unsheathed her katana as she bounded down her front steps and into the street. She heard Rick yelling something at her, but she was past the point of comprehending anything other than the fight response. She could feel her arms moving as if they had a will of their own as her katana swiftly sliced through the midsection of one of the dead ones and beheaded another.

She instinctively maneuvered through the small crowd, lifting her sword above her head in a perfectly horizontal position before using her left hand to pull the sword like a lever until it made contact with the head of the walker in front of her.

A bullet whizzed past her arm as another walker collapsed and she sprinted towards the Grimes' front porch, stabbing another as her heart beat rapidly and her head began to pound with an oncoming headache. Once she reached the porch, her palms grew sweaty as she clutched the sword in front of her, still on alert.

She could feel someone's hands on her. "What the hell was that?" Rick's voice sounded as if he was telling from afar and the world started to spin around Michonne. She looked up to see his lips moving in slow motion as garbled incomprehensible words escaped.

She felt so hot; it was as if she had a fever.

Her vision started fading to black as she put her hands out in front of her and attempted to find somewhere to sit down. The ground started to get closer and closer as she grew more disoriented.

When Michonne's eyes blinked open two minutes later, she found a concerned pair of blue eyes staring back at her. Her eyes flitted around the Grimes' living room, trying to process where she was and what was happening.

"Dad, she's awake!" Carl yelled over his shoulder, dropping the makeshift fan he held. He turned back to her, leaning forward and carefully examining her face, with those earnest eyes that were difficult to lie to. "That was quick. It's been about a minute. Are you okay?" he asked, in a low voice.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to sit up. She felt weak and nauseous and her head was pounding. She pressed her palm against her head, trying to relieve the pain.

"You fainted," he informed her. His wore a contemplative expression as he stared down at his hands, his brow creased in concentration. "I saw your sword. Dad brought it inside. You really think we're going to be okay?"

Michonne smiled woefully as she held her head in her hands. "I sure hope so, but the truth is, I don't know. I'm not sure about much of anything anymore."

"Look who opened their eyes," Rick said, as he trotted the living room, a glass of water in hand. "Drink," he commanded handing it to her before turning to Carl. "Go finish your breakfast."

Michonne sipped her water daintily as Carl reluctantly left her side. After Rick was sure he was out of earshot, he sat down next to Michonne, meeting her eyes. "Why did you do that?"

She shook her head, letting out a humorless laugh. The motion brought another wave of dizziness. "I don't know. It was like…I felt like I was having an out of body experience. It was an adrenaline. I guess I chose fight instead of flight."

Rick flopped back against the couch, glowering at the ceiling. "You scared me for a minute there. I was shooting at them, then all of a sudden you come flying out of your house waving a sword and slicing through bodies." He sighed, rubbing his face. "I thought…I thought you were a goner. It was like you had a death wish."

Michonne placed her glass down and pulled her knees to her chest. "In a strange way, it felt…a little good. There was no fear. It was like I was just letting everything out. Until I started processing everything and fainted, that is."

Rick's lips pulled up into a small smile. "I have to admit, it did look pretty good too. You can really handle that sword. Where did you learn to do that?"

"My…someone I used to know introduced me to that sort of thing. We used to take Iaijutsu and Iaido lessons when I lived in the city."

"Is that a type of sword fightin' or something?"

Michonne nodded. "I started when I first got the katana. It was fun and a great stress reliever. Never knew I'd have to actually use what I learned."

Rick looked genuinely impressed. "You're clearly not one to mess with. A real life badass huh?"

"I also practice capoeira," she said, shooting him a playful wink. "I can kick some serious ass Sheriff."

Carl's loud voice filled the room as it traveled from the kitchen. "Dad the food is getting cold. You and Michonne better come eat."

"We're comin'," Rick called, with a chuckle. "This kid."

"How much did he see?" she asked, rubbing her forehead. Carl had mentioned seeing her sword and she wondered if he had witnessed her slicing her way through the dead in the streets. She wasn't sure if that was something he should have seen. It would probably be somewhat terrifying for him to witness.

"Some of it," he answered. "The gunshots woke him and he came out just as I was bringing you inside. He saw the bloody sword and the bodies in the street, so he has an idea of the trouble we're in. He was a little spooked."

"Sorry about that."

He shrugged, nudging her leg with his own. "Let's go eat. You heard the man." Michonne stood up and had to grab Rick's arm for support. The room was spinning around her. "Still dizzy? Fainting does that."

Rick carefully guided Michonne to the kitchen where they found Carl and Sophia eating pancakes and eggs. Carl watched them carefully, as Rick fixed their plates, placing one in front of a still disoriented Michonne.

"Dad?" Carl asked, around a mouthful of pancake.

"Yeah son?"

"Are more of those…people coming?" His earnest eyes searched his father's face.

Sophia whimpered, dropping her fork. Her lips quivered as tears of terror began welling in her eyes. "They're gonna eat us. Why is this happening?"

Rick looked defeated. "I don't know. What we have to –" The popping sounds of gunshots ringing in the streets interrupted him. Rick and Michonne exchanged an alarmed look.

"What was that?" Carl's eyes moved around the room nervously. "Can they use guns?"

"They can't. We're fine. Stay here," Rick said, unsure if any of that was true, as he stood from the table and walked cautiously out of the kitchen. Michonne followed shortly after. She still felt weak and slightly disoriented, but she was desperate to know what was happening around her. Her mind wouldn't allow her to stand by.

Rick placed a finger on his lips as she ambled towards him, before slowly shifting the curtain to the side as he peered outside. "What's going on?"

"Someone's out there," he whispered. "And there's more walkers. It looks like…Shane?"

Michonne looked at him confused. "What?" She moved closer to try to see what he saw, as he dropped the curtain and bounded towards the door, drawing his gun. She moved the curtain aside peeking out the window at the haphazardly parked black jeep wrangler in the middle of the street outside the house. A tall, dark-haired man stepped out holding a rifle.

She propped herself against the wall for support, watching as Rick approached the man, greeting him with a distressed hug. The man started speaking animatedly as Rick listened, nodding his head as his face paled and grew more and more disturbed. His head turned back toward the house and even from afar she could see the hopelessness in his demeanor. The man did not come bearing good news and something told her their situation was about to worsen.

The passenger side door of the jeep opened and Carol Peletier stepped out into the late morning light. Rick moved around the man and engulfed her in a hug. The man wearily surveyed the streets as the three of them approached the house, Rick leading the way. When they finally entered the house, Michonne was nearly bursting with anxiety about the type of news they would bring.

Rick's eyes immediately found hers as he stepped through the door ahead of their two visitors. "Sophia's in the kitchen having breakfast. She'll be so happy to see you Carol," Rick said to a defeated looking Carol. If it were possible, Michonne would think that the woman had shrunk a by a foot or two from the last time she saw her. The woman almost looked like a completely different person as she scurried towards the kitchen, giving Michonne's arm a light appreciative squeeze as she passed.

Rick gestured to the man next to him. "Michonne, this is Shane. He's a police officer. We work together." The man barely glanced in her direction, still seemingly on high alert.

"Hello," she said, with a small wave. She could hear the muffled cries of Carol and Sophia in the next room. She was thankful that the mother and daughter reunited in spite of what had occurred with the woman's husband.

"Hi there." He curtly nodded in her direction before turning his attention back to Rick. "We really need to discuss this and have a plan for moving. I don't want to wait and then have it be too late. We could get trapped. This is one of those easily forgotten type of places."

"What's going on?" Michonne looked between the two men, crossing her arms.

"Shane was telling me about how it is out there," he said, as he walked out of the entryway and into the room. He took a seat on the couch gesturing for Michonne to follow. She still wasn't fully recovered from her faint. Shane followed slowly after them. "We might be in more trouble than we realized. He thinks we should leave town before it's too late."

"Leave?" She glanced at the impassive dark-haired man. "And go where? Is it safe?"

"Rick, this place has been quiet, but like I said, if we wait and more of those things come, we  _will_  get trapped. The military is working to clear big cities, but it's easy to forget small places like this. The best thing is for us to get out while we can," Shane said, running a hand through his dark hair. "After we booked Carol, Leon and I were on our way to Linden County to help them out with some criminals when we saw it; Dead people walking the streets. We had to fight our way out and…Leon didn't make it."

"Damn it," Rick cursed under his breath. "Leon was a good guy. His poor wife. And all those kids."

Shane shook his head sadly. "He had six of them. Linden County has gotta be gone by now and King County will be next. Linden ain't that far from here and when I finally managed to escape, they were already movin' in this direction. It's a lot of them and it's more than we can handle."

Rick furrowed his brow and appeared to be deep in thought. "The best thing to do is to head for high ground. The mountains would probably be best since it's isolated. I know a great place where I took Carl and Lori one summer."

"Speakin' of Lori," Shane said, as he straightened up. "Have you heard from her? You know if she was okay? I know she works in that big ass hospital."

"I've been trying to call. No answer. The same with my family."

"Hopefully she got out in time. I can't get anyone on the phone either. I don't know," Shane said, shaking his head. "Atlanta is probably clear by now. I know the National Guard stepped in. I hear there are refugee camps being set up. That could be worth a shot."

"I don't know about that." Michonne shifted uneasily. Rick shot her a knowing look. "Multiple tornadoes just passed through, which could mean there's a lot of chaos right now. Plus, my sister was in Atlanta and she had to leave the city on one of the emergency busses. The dead walkers were everywhere."

"Exactly," Shane snapped in an irritated tone. "They got the survivors out first, so it would have been easier for the National Guard to clear the place out. These things are coming and we need to get on the move. They probably drifted out of the city when they were getting rid of them."

Michonne was taken aback by his odd behavior. While she understood that he most likely witnessed some unfathomable horrors in the past twenty-four hours, it was as if her presence was unreasonably irritating him. She took a calming breath, not wanting to appear angry or irrational, but at the same time fully intending to set things straight. "I was just sharing what I know," she said evenly, attempting to remain poised. "On the news last night, we saw an Atlanta we didn't recognize. I  _highly_  doubt they would have been able to get everything that was happening under control in only a matter of hours." She pointed to the television. "We don't even  _have_  news anymore. Things are falling apart faster than they can put them back together."

Rick looked between his long-time friend and the woman he had just formed a new friendship with. "That seems to be the case," Rick said cautiously. "Atlanta could be fine. We don't know, so I think we should be cautious. We can head that way in the meantime and stay in isolated areas just to be safe."

Shane nodded. "That's a plan. We'll probably end up somewhere that's not too far from the city. That's probably where the military safe zones would be. We can take refuge there to wait this thing out."

Rick glanced toward the wall separating them from the reunion that was occurring in the other room. "How much longer do you think we have? We've had a couple of them today, but…"

"We're gonna get even more soon," Shane replied. "They're attracted to loud noises so them gunshots didn't help none." He finally stopped pacing and took a seat across from them, glancing apprehensively in Michonne's direction. "We need to pack as much supplies as we can. We'll take two cars and we'll hit the road to find one of those camps."

"The police car doesn't –"

"Carol's husband had an old Jeep Cherokee. We can use that."

Rick sighed, leaning back against the couch and rubbing his fatigued face. Shane's eyes darted to Michonne again as he gave her an odd look. "I'm sorry, but is there a problem?" she asked. The question sounded harsher leaving her mouth than she intended. The fact that she was slightly disoriented and had a pounding headache didn't help.

"Did I say there was?" he asked brusquely.

Rick held up his hands as if he was expecting them to spring into attack mode. "Okay," he said. "Whatever this is, just stop. We are in the middle of a crisis." He shot Shane a disapproving look. "We have to stay focused on the task at hand. We need to start packing up and I need to have a talk with Carl."

Shane nodded his head solemnly. "We need to get out of here by  _tonight_."

* * *

**~TNB~**

Michonne stood in her kitchen, packing for the second time that day. She glanced at an unpacked box in a corner with a heavy sigh. In the week since she had moved to King County her life had changed dramatically. She was desperate for spontaneity, but this wasn't what she had in mind.

She opened the drawer where she kept her stash of candy and grabbed the handful of Big Kats and Sour Patch Kids stuffing it in her bag. She opened the cupboards one last time, making sure that she didn't leave behind any useful food items that they could use on the road.

"Goodbye kitchen," she murmured, lightly rubbing her marble countertop. She remembered being so excited about her dream kitchen when she first moved in.

As she made her way down the hall, she heard a knock at the door, alerting her that they would be leaving soon. She double-checked that she had her cell phone and charger in case Sasha or her parents tried to reach her.

"Ready?" Rick asked, when she opened the door. He stood handsomely on her porch with the late afternoon light, illuminated behind him like a halo.

She nodded. "How did he take it?"

Rick sighed, gazing out at the eerily vacant street. "He's scared, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. He's a smart kid."

"That's understandable," she said, hoisting her bag over the shoulder and picking up the other two. She mentally went over what she packed and hoped she didn't leave anything important behind.

"Wow." Rick whistled as his eyes widened. "Is this packing  _light_?"

Michonne playfully rolled her eyes. "I just needed a  _few_  additional things." She glanced down at her bag and she did seem a little over packed, but she wanted to be prepared. They had no idea where they were going, what they would face or what they would do for food and shelter. She figured it was better to be as prepared as she possibly could be.

"A  _few_?" he asked teasingly. "You do realize that you already put two bags in the Cherokee right? I hope there's space for us to sit."

"Your  _friend_  said we needed lots of supplies," She said, handing him a bag as they made their way down the front steps towards the Jeep Cherokee with the faded paint job. Michonne glanced back at the house she had intended to spend the rest of her life in with an aching smile. She marveled at how unpredictable life could be. A person could never truly be in complete control.

"Okay, so I have a general idea of where we should be headed," Shane said, as they approach. "I'll drive ahead with Carol and Sophia and you and your girlfriend can follow in the Cherokee."

_Girlfriend?_

"Shane," Rick admonished shooting Michonne an apologetic smile.

Shane held up his hands in surrender as he turned to head back towards his Jeep. "I know nothing."

"Let's get your bags in the car your highness," Rick teased, as Carl approached them wearing a backpack.

Carl looked back at the house he had lived in for all of his young life. "You think we're going to come back soon?"

"I don't know," Michonne answered truthfully. Lately, she had been reiterating those words repeatedly. Their lives were shrouded in uncertainty. "Maybe."

Carl's eyes flitted to the heap of bodies at the far side of the yard. In an attempt to clear the streets Shane had put on a pair of heavy-duty gloves and dragged the bodies out from the streets before the kids came outside. He rang his hands together anxiously as he averted his gaze. Michonne squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

Rick grunted from the back of the 1979 Jeep Cherokee as he attempted to stuff Michonne's things into the back. "Ooh wait!" She shuffled towards him, grabbing her smallest bag. "Not the small one. That one has the goodies."

"Yes ma'am." Rick handed her the bag as he closed the trunk. He opened the back door ruffling Carl's hair as Michonne climbed into the passenger seat with her bag of goodies. "Hop on in."

"Shane said this is like a road trip," Carl said, once Rick was in the car. "It's not though. Not really." He wearily stared out the window. "It's not like that time we went to Disney World. We don't know where mom is and there's monsters now."

Rick and Michonne were silent, not knowing how to respond to the heartbreaking words of the young boy. They were entangled in an unimaginable situation under unusual circumstances. Little did they know they would have a more difficult time adapting to the new changes in the world than Carl who was far less stubborn than the two.

Shane honked his horn waving a hand out of his window to signal the commencement of their journey. Michonne offered Rick a reassuring smile as he started the car and put it in drive. She couldn't put into words how thankful she was that she had people in her life to withstand the current global hardships with.

"Big Kat?" Michonne held up her favorite candy over her shoulder, waving it in front of Carl.

"I've never seen this candy before," Carl said as he took the sweets from her, his previous musings momentarily forgotten. "Thanks!"

Michonne gasped in faux surprise. "How?" She playfully nudged Rick. "What have you been feeding the boy?  _That_  happens to be the greatest chocolaty creation of all time. It's practically criminal to have never had it."

"My apologies for depriving the boy of the greatest candy of all time."

"I'll consider forgiving you." She closed her bag, placing it on the floor between her feet before turning to observe the passing landscape. As they drove, they saw the occasional newly dead body in the streets and even some that were erect and walking. At first, a small whimper of terror came from the backseat, but its occurrence slowly dwindled as time went on. As they drove through the winding roads, she admired the beautiful southern landscape.

The sound of tires skidding against the road broke Michonne out of her reverie as the car in front of them pulled to a sudden stop. Michonne's heart hammered in her chest as Rick reflexively slammed against the brakes, pulling the Jeep to a screeching halt. His shoulders slumped in defeat at the sight before them.

"I don't think we're going anywhere anytime soon."

* * *

**So Shane and Carol showed up. What's up with him?**

**I hope you enjoyed it! Review please!**


	6. The Mountains

_"Apocalypse is a frame of mind."_  – Jim Butcher

* * *

 

The summer of the year she turned eighteen, Michonne toured the Caribbean Islands with her family. They had just finished a hike through the Valley of Desolation in Dominica when Winnie, her mother said, "When the world ends, this is where I'd like to be when it happens." Winnie's dark eyes had pensively taken in the water of Titou Gorge below them. "It'll be just me, the mountains, the rainforest and the water.  _Dye mon, gen mon_."

"If the world ends, wouldn't everybody be gone?" Sasha, always the skeptic, had asked. "Why would you be  _here_? You think you'll be the last woman standing?"

"I think it's possible for the world to end without the human race ending. The world ends when the social order ends." she had answered. "I think we'd all still be here. Don't you?"

"I think that makes perfect sense." Michonne always admired her mother's intuitive and romantic worldview. It was something she strived to achieve herself and she always wanted to raise her children in the laid-back and unconventional way her parents raised her and her sister. Michonne had spent most of her childhood and teenage years traveling the world with her anthropologist mother and wildlife photographer father.

Sasha had rolled her eyes when her sister agreed with their mother, as she often did. "Always with the philosophical hippie ideals."

Winnie pushed her sunglasses over her head, shooting Sasha a playful scowl. "Don't  _you_  ever think about how this will all end? What happens then? Do we just continue in a lost and empty world? Or does it end when we end?"

"Don't know and don't care to know." Sasha took a few steps backward as she prepared to dive into the gorge below where their father, David was swimming with their younger brother Amare. She bounded toward the edge before dropping in the emerald water below.

Winnie had glanced back at her other, more indulgent daughter. "At least you understand me. I managed to pass  _something_  on." The fascinating woman had put a hand on her hip, swaying slightly. " _Chou-chou_ , when you have your children make sure you let them keep their minds open."

That moment replayed in Michonne's mind as she regarded the shambolic traffic jam they found themselves in. People were standing outside their cars conversing, others were yelling and panicked. There was no way they were getting to the city on that particular road on that particular night. She glanced at Rick's frustrated face and observed Carl's innocent confusion.

Here they were at the end of the world while the inhabitants of the world lived on to face the forces that were attempting to destroy them. She supposed her mother's wish was a practical one. If she was standing in the middle of a rainforest on an island like Dominica, she doubted she would be dealing with problems like these. Her mother had an interesting way of always being right.

The driver's door of Shane's car flew open as he stepped out, marching his way towards them. "We're gonna be here a while." He looked over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go talk to some people. See what the hold up is."

"I'll come," Rick said removing his seatbelt. He met Michonne's eyes, tilting his head in Carl's direction. "You're okay with…?"

"Yeah, go ahead," she said, shooing him away.

"Traffic?" Carl asked after his father left.

"Looks like it," she answered. "Both sides of the road are blocked though." It looked like they were going to be stuck for a while unless they turned around and somehow maneuvered their way out before even more cars were behind them.

Rick and Shane were in deep conversation with an older man with a rifle standing outside an RV that was parked next to Shane's car. He gestured around wildly as he offered them what little information he had. A few other people joined into their conversation and Michonne was desperate to find out what was going on.

"Can we go outside?" Carl asked, leaning between the seats to look at Michonne with pleading eyes. "Shane's car is right in front of ours. I want to say hi to Sophia."

"Yeah," Michonne said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I was getting tired of sitting anyway. Come on."

They slowly strolled toward the black Jeep Wrangler. "Hey Carol. How's it going?"

"We're holding up," the woman said, running her hand through her daughter's hair. The little girl was huddled beside her mother with her head resting on her shoulder. Seeing them reunited was a heartwarming sight.

"So it looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while." Michonne leaned against the passenger side of the Wrangler. She still felt a little weightless from her earlier fainting spell. She attempted to inconspicuously assess Rick's interactions with the other evacuees. A blonde woman had joined the conversation and was pointing something out on a map while they all looked over her shoulder.

"Yeah, " Carol sighed, sitting up straighter. "I should probably get out and stretch my legs." She lightly nudged Sophia. "Come on honey."

Carol and Sophia moved to stand outside the car and Carl immediately initiated a game of 'I spy' with Sophia. Michonne watched as Carol stood with her arms around herself, staring blankly into the trees surrounding the highway. The woman looked as if she was barely holding it together. Michonne knew that whatever had happened to lead to her murdering her husband was seriously affecting her. She worried about the woman's mental stability.

She looked up to find Rick slowly approaching her, meeting her questioning eyes as he shook his head disappointedly. "Things are getting a little rowdy and it doesn't look like there's a way out. I heard there was an accident down a few miles down."

"Great," she said with a defeated sigh. "This long ass day just keeps getting better and better."

A blood-curling scream echoed through the night. "They're here! They're going to eat us," a woman who was standing about ten cars down flailing her arms yelled. Just as she turned to run towards the edge of the road a walker, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, descended upon her.

People stared in horror as it bit through her face, her skin gruesomely stretching away as it consumed her. A blonde burly man who had been in a hostile confrontation with another traveler pulled out his gun and started firing haphazardly, completely missing the woman and the walker and striking a bystander instead.

People started screaming as they ducked to avoid flying bullets. A choir of snarling sounds started grew closer, as screams grew louder. Walkers emerged from the wooded areas on the roadside and from the direction of the source of the traffic jam.

"We need to get out," Rick yelled, running towards Carl and scooping him up. The people nearest to them quickly began to act. "Get back in your cars! I know where we can go."

Shane ushered Carol and Sophia back into his vehicle, while the older man who had been standing with two blonde women, scurried into his RV.

Rick opened the back door of the Cherokee, throwing in a sobbing Carl in the back as he and Michonne hopped into the front. He threw the car in reverse, dexterously maneuvering around the car behind him as he turned the jeep to face the opposite direction.

"Where?"

"I have an idea of where we are. We can head to the woods to wait this out. There should be some pretty good areas that people use for hiking and camping," he said as he sped down the mostly vacant highway.

They drove in silence for what felt like forever when Rick suddenly pulled off the main road, following a dirt path through the woods driving upwards along the winding hills for about a mile. He kept driving until they arrived at a clearing with some flat land. The headlights of vehicles that managed to make it out of the walker-filled highway engulfed the dark clearing.

"What's going to happen to us?" Carl asked in a small voice from the backseat.

"We're going to be fine," Rick gritted out. It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that more than anyone else. His knuckles grew paler as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "We're fine."

Michonne placed a comforting hand over his, willing him to remain calm for the sake of Carl. The boy was already petrified and seeing his father break his optimistic exterior would only serve to exacerbate his fears. Rick loosened his grip, took a deep breath and gave Michonne a grateful look.

Michonne peered out of her window, spotting Shane's Jeep Wrangler, the RV and two other vehicles she remembered from the traffic jam. "We're all here," she whispered, mostly to herself.

**~TNB~**

* * *

 

Sixteen people made it off the traffic jammed highway that night. Sixteen people in five vehicles managed to maneuver themselves out of a situation that would have inevitably led to them lying mangled in the streets among the snarling vacant eyed dead.

At first, nobody moved. They all sat in their respective cars, petrified with fear and hopelessness as the severity of their current situation weighed on each individual mind. It was Rick who finally moved to get out of his car to make a proper assessment and a plan for moving forward. It was in his nature. He needed to keep trying and moving things forward. Although he was troubled by their situation he still had a sliver of hope and optimism within him.

Once people grew slightly more comfortable, Michonne moved around the small group acquainting herself with their fellow refugees. She learned that the man with the RV was named Dale and he was travelling with a blonde woman named Andrea and a young man named Glenn. She also met a small family of three. The father, Morgan, was traveling with his wife Jenny and son Duane. Morales drove the final vehicle with his wife and two young daughters.

"Some friends of ours were back there," he told Michonne. "They were good people. Their car was in front of us. When we escaped we thought they would be right behind us."

The group had decided that the best course of action was to use the vehicles to form a semi-circular barrier around the group and they would then set up camp for the night. Although they believed the likelihood to be slim, they agreed to take shifts keeping watch in case more of the dead ones approached. They wouldn't fare well in a surprise attack.

Rick, an avid camper, had the frame of mind to pack two large tents, so they got to work on pitching the tents collecting sleeping bags, securing weapons and creating comfortable places to sleep.

"What if they come here?" Carl glanced nervously at the large trees that surrounded them, as if expecting a walker to step out from behind one of them. He handed Michonne a pole with trembling hands.

"We're pretty far away," Michonne said, leaning down slightly to look him in the eye. " _I_  think we're safe. This is almost like blanket fort 2.0, just without the blankets and we're outside." She looked over to where Dale was standing, talking to Rick. "And you're surrounded by people who will do whatever they can to protect you."

His eyes drifted to her katana, where it leaned against the car behind her. "Will you use that again if they come?"

Without looking, she knew what he was talking about. She sighed as she assembled the tent pole. "If I have to, I will. I'd do anything to protect us."

"I wish I knew how to…you know," he mumbled. "They ate that woman's face. I'm scared."

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And that's okay. I get scared too. We'll get through this together though."

Rick approached them, his brow furrowed in concentration. "How's the tent pitching going?" he asked absently.

"Great," Michonne answered. "It's been a while since I've camped, but I still have the hang of things. Plus Carl's a great helper. Right Carl?"

Carl took a deep, calming breath, nodding his head and putting on a brave face. "Right."

Rick joined them in assembling the tent and the three quickly finished their task. It was decided that Rick and Carl would take one while Sophia and her mother shared the other. The rest of the inhabitants made makeshift sleeping areas within the vehicles, while they assigned watch shifts.

After most of the people drifted to a resting position, Michonne grabbed her katana and propped herself up on the hood of the Jeep Cherokee, leaning back against the windshield. She looked up at the stars, thinking about her family and how the world was probably treating them in that moment. She understood and wished for Winnie's dream for the end. She already found one of the woman's requirements.

"I hope you're not planning to sleep there." She looked to her left to find Rick slowly approaching her. She scooted a little to the left, making space for him as he climbed next to her, lying back as well.

"It's nice to have more people around," he said. "Everyone seems nice enough."

"It is nice," she answered. She looked over at the RV, which was two cars down. Dale Horvath was seated on the roof with his hunting rifle as he cautiously surveyed their surroundings. "My mom used to say that wherever there are many, nothing goes wrong." She smiled as she was filled with nostalgia. "It's a saying she picked up when we lived in Tanzania.  _Panapo wengi hapaharibiki neno_."

Rick shot her an amused look. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Sing."

He raised his brow. "Are you genuinely a bad singer or do you just have ridiculously high standards?"

"I sound like a drowning cat," she giggled. "There's a lot I can't do actually. You'll find out soon enough. I can't dance either."

"Well we have that in common." They lay in silence for a few more minutes, staring up at the sky. "You never did tell me why a city girl like you chose our tiny town to move to. It doesn't seem like your style."

"I wasn't always a city girl," she said. "I spent a good portion of my childhood as a travelling child. I've been to every continent except Antarctica. My family settled in New York City and then Atlanta when I was a teenager and…I liked it. I loved travelling and being with my parents, but I liked the stability. It was what we needed at the time. I've lived there ever since."

"Why did you travel so much," he asked, genuinely interested. "Did your parents have one of those interesting jobs? Diplomat? Ambassador?"

"Wildlife photographer and an anthropologist slash historian," she explained. "My parents tried to work around each other's schedules. My siblings and I had an unusual upbringing. We were also homeschooled until we left Tanzania to come back to the states."

"Wow. That's quite a life," he said. "I've only been to two other states besides Georgia and I've only been on a plane once. Worst experience of my life."

Her eyes darted to him in surprise. She sat up slightly, leaning her head against her palm as she looked down at him. "You're kidding. Only two? And I  _love_  planes."

"I'm not," he chuckled. "That's small town life I guess."

"Did you always live in King County? Your family is somewhere else."

"I've always lived there," he said. "My parents moved to Florida after they retired. My mom wanted a change of scenery. Before my divorce, we'd drive down to see them in the summer. We called it Grimes family road trips. I…I hope they're okay." She could hear the sadness in his voice.

"I wish the world was whole again," she whispered, taking in their dark surroundings and silently praying the walkers wouldn't find them. They were so far away from where civilization used to be. She thought of her parents and her last conversation with each of them.

"It will be." His voice was confident. "We'll see our families again."

Michonne scanned Rick's profile as he stared up at the starry sky. It didn't escape her notice that he was an attractive man and something about him drew her in. She wasn't sure what that something was but it was there. She felt the fluttering in her stomach and was hyperaware of his fingers lying a few inches away from her. Her hand tingled as his slowly moved to grab her own, linking their fingers between them. She scooted closer until mere inches separated them, their bodies slightly curled around each other. Neither one uttered a word, basking in the small comfort of the other's presence.

In that moment, they knew something was shifting between them.

At the other end of the small makeshift camp, Shane Walsh stood in the shadows near his car, taking in the sight of his best friend and the woman who was now inexplicably a part of his life. "Some things never change," he mumbled, placing his shotgun over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they made a camp and we learned a little about Michonne's past. We're also meeting some more characters. I can't wait to post the next chapter. So many interesting interactions that I can't wait to write.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed. Review and let me know what you think!


	7. The Nest

_"Piti, piti, wazo fe nich li: Little by little the bird build its nest."_ –Haitian Proverb

* * *

 

Michonne woke with a searing pain in her neck. She groaned, stretching her sore muscles as she sat up in the back seat of the Jeep Cherokee. For the second night in a row, appearances of the little boy and Winnie plagued her dreams. The early morning light shone in her eyes and she positioned her hand like a visor as she examined the figures moving around outside.

She pressed her cheek against her knee as she watched Rick's silhouette pacing outside as if deep in thought. He paused near the trees on the far side of the camp, rubbing the back of his neck. Michonne pulled her light sweater closer over her body. The early mornings were becoming especially chilly as they moved further into the year.

It was their third day on the mountain. The morning after they arrived, Rick and Morgan made a trip down the mountain to assess the state of the highway and the traffic jam and if there was a clear path to the city. They returned with disappointing news. As they were approaching the abandoned highway, they encountered a large herd-like group of "walkers", as everyone now referred to them. They narrowly escaped.

Their goal of getting to the city would have to wait and the mountain would become their temporary home.

"We found water!" As Michonne exited the car she looked up to see Glenn and Andrea running through a path through the trees.

"What's going on?" she asked, as they approached the center of the small camp.

"There's a river," Glenn explained as he tried to catch his breath. Rick, Shane and a few other inhabitants approached to find out what the commotion was about. "It's down that way." He pointed in the direction they came from. "I'm thinking it could be a good source of food and water. Anybody knows how to fish?"

"We're country guys." Rick nudged Shane, who was still fiddling with his gun. "Of course we can."

"That's good," Shane nodded without looking up from his gun. "We won't starve once we run out of food and water. We can get cleaned up properly too."

"I think I've got a rod with me." Rick started walking away with Glenn in tow.

"How long can we possibly stay on this mountain?" asked Miranda Morales indignantly crossing her arms as the group dispersed to complete their individual morning routines. "We're going to have to leave at some point to reconnect with the rest of the world. We have family out there."

Shane narrowed his brown eyes as he leaned forward to meet the woman's terrified ones. "Look here princess. We're not even sure if there  _is_  a rest of the world right now." He held up an old radio that he never seemed to separate from. "It's getting worse, but we're alive. The government might be on the verge of falling. This is our safest bet for now. We all have people we love out there but this is how it is."

"It's true," Michonne said, placing a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's tough not knowing what's going on, or if our family is okay, but there isn't much we can do right now. We just have to hope for the best."

"If some of us can even be bothered to remember them," Shane growled as he stalked towards his jeep. He opened the trunk and started sifting through its contents.

"What's  _his_  problem?" Miranda sniffed as she wiped away her spilled tears.

Michonne shrugged, trying to ignore her wary feelings. "I think he's just a grumpy guy. It's not the worst thing in the world right now."

"That's an understatement," Andrea snorted as she narrowed her eyes in the direction he took off in. "Something's eating at that man."

Shane reemerged from the back of his car with two buckets. "Hey Rick hurry up with that rod!"

Michonne volunteered to go down to the river with Glenn and Andrea to gather water for the camp. It felt wonderful to have a large source of water at their disposal. She took the opportunity to wash her face and freshen up before gathering water for the camp. The three of them conversed as they drew water into containers and contemplated their futures. She learned that Glenn was a pizza boy and Andrea was a clerk at a law firm.

"Hey Michonne!"

Michonne nearly jumped out of her skin before turning to find Carl staring up intently at her. She didn't hear or notice him approaching her as she reentered the small camp. "Hey Carl!" She placed the bucket she was carrying down next to the car and lightly ruffled his hair. "I haven't seen you all morning."

"Sophia and I were playing in Dale's RV with Eliza and Louise. Mrs. Jones gave us cookies." He scratched at a spot on his arm. "It's so cool in there. It looks like a house in there."

"That sounds really cool," she said as she adjusted the strap of her scabbard.

"What have  _you_  been doing?"

She did her best Vanna White impression as she pointed to the bucket of water. "Collecting water with Glenn and Andrea."

His face lit up in excitement. "I heard about the river. Shane said he and Dad are going to teach me how to fish. He said we're men so we have to provide the food for the women to cook."

Michonne's eyebrows rose and her face grew contemplative. "Huh." She leaned against the Jeep, crossing her arms. From what she observed during the past three days, it didn't surprise her that Shane would say something like that. "You know, my Mom actually taught me how to fish when I was your age."

Carl's face morphed into an expression of surprise. "Really?" He giggled, looking up at her. "Are you good at  _everything_  Michonne?"

She chuckled at the similarity of the boys thought process with his father's. "Not  _everything_." She pulled her hair back away from her face, feeling muggy from her trek up the hill. "My grandmother, Clari, was a fisherwoman. She was the only woman in her village that did that and nobody could catch fish better than her. So I guess it runs in the family."

"Well then I want you to teach me instead," he proclaimed after mere seconds of pondering. "Hey Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

He shuffled awkwardly, playing with the edge of his shirt. "Are you really my Dad's girlfriend?"

"Where did you…?"

"I heard Shane call you that the other night." He averted his eyes. "He called you my Dad's girlfriend?"

As if on cue, she saw Shane emerge from the woods in her peripheral vision. Her eyes narrowed as she looked in the man's direction. "Well, I'm not," she said. "Your Dad and I are just friends."

A strange look crossed Carl's face that almost resembled disappointment. Michonne couldn't be quite sure because the look was gone just as quickly as it appeared. "Okay." He wore a neutral expression. "I'm gonna go find Sophia. Maybe she wants to learn to fish too."

"See you later," she called as he dashed away. She looked back to where Shane was standing outside the open trunk of his car sifting through the contents once again. She slowly made her way toward the detached unfriendly man.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Shane's movement froze, but his back remained turned to her. "Can I help you?" His tone was less than friendly.

"Yes," she answered, crossing her arms. "You can start by letting me know what your problem with me is."

He dropped the bag that was in his hand back into the trunk, whirling around to face her. "I didn't know I had one." He put his hands on his hips and took a small step in her direction. "Who do you think you are huh?" His eyes burned with fury. "You think because Rick walks around acting like he's in change, you're some kind of first lady?"

"What?"

"You're nothing new, you know that right?" he sneered. "This is how he is. You're just a shiny new toy. You don't get to come in and play Lori's role. Yes Lori. Carl had a Momma. Apparently I'm the only one 'round here that remembers her."

Michonne grimaced, taken aback by the implications in his words. She glowered at him, anger and slight embarrassment boiling within her.

"It's cool though," he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. He backed away from her, grabbing his shotgun from where it rested against the car. "I'm cool. No problems from this guy. I'm just trying to mind my own business and survive this shit."

Shane slammed the trunk shut and stalked into the woods with his gun in hand while Michonne watched him with a multitude of conflicting feelings. It was obvious that her friendship with Rick bothered Shane and those troubling feelings he harbored were directly tied with him and Rick's relationship with Lori, the ex-wife. A part of her understood where his apprehension was coming from. Not knowing whether your friends and family were dead or alive is very painful and difficult to process. At the same time she realized that Shane was instigating unnecessary drama that she did not intend to deal with.

**~TNB~**

* * *

 

Four and a half weeks passed them on the mountain before they encountered other survivors. It happened on an afternoon when Rick had gone into the woods to check on their animal traps. Michonne tagged along with him for company. During their time on the mountain, the river proved to be an excellent source for fish and frogs, however they were running low on the food items they packed and people were growing tired of fish.

"Is it me or is Shane still acting  _really_  pissy?"

"He is. It's not just you," Rick sighed, rubbing his face. "I have a few ideas as to why that is. I still can't believe he said that to you. You have nothing to do with whatever's botherin' him. I doesn't help that we're all stuck up here."

"Yeah." Her mind drifted to their encounter weeks before. As the time passed it seemed as if his problem was a little more personal than worrying about Lori. She spent a great deal of time thinking about his words before deciding that it really wasn't worth it to obsess about his judgments and put too much stock in his harsh words. "We've been on this mountain for over a month and he's been cool for the most part, but it feels like he's been getting angrier lately."

He offered her a small smile as he lightly nudged her shoulder. "I'll talk to him."

Michonne and Rick had been almost inseparable while on the mountain. They gravitated to each other and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. She was happy that she had him as a friend in this strange world. They walked in comfortable silence as Rick approached the first trap, which was empty. "How does that work?"

Rick playfully raised his brow. " _Not_  an expert on traps? Color me surprised Miss World Traveler. I expected more."

"I told you I wasn't good at everything. I'm a fast learner though." She crouched down beside him, meeting his piercing blue eyes. "Teach me."

His lips formed into a small, amused smile as he looked down at the trap. "It's a simple bait stick snare," he explained. "You have your bait, the noose, a forked stake and the spring pole." He lightly tugged on the rope, which was tied into the shape of a small noose. "When the trap gets triggered, it springs and fires like this and we get our dinner."

"Not from this one though." Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the breakfast she missed. She never believed she would miss massive breakfasts with eggs and bacon and pancakes as much as she did in that moment.

"Nope." He stood, brushing off his pants. "Come on, we'll check out the others to see if we have a catch from there. If not, we'll always have trout."

"Do you really think they're okay though?" she asked as they sought out the next trap. He understood what she meant without her specifying.

"I still have hope. It's been a month. Carl asks about his mother quite a bit. He worries and he's scared," he explained. "I worry too. I keep praying that she made it out somehow. My ex-wife and I may not have been in love at the end of the day, but it still hurts to even think that she may not have survived this. Contrary to what Shane believes."

Michonne nodded sympathetically. It really was something that was difficult to process. Especially due to the fact that she hadn't seen a walker since the day they fled from the highway. It made their situation even more surreal. She was thankful that they were relatively safe on the mountain, however she was still having difficulty with not knowing if her sister's bus ever made it to the military refugee camp. She was plagued with nightmares of Sasha and her family trapped in their bus in the middle of a walker-filled highway.

"Oh I meant to tell you," Rick said suddenly. "I was talking with Glenn and Morgan about that the other night. A small group of us are thinking about trying to head down to Atlanta again to see what's going on. We're planning out a route. Even if we don't find what were looking for…we'll still need supplies, you know?" The implication that the city might be gone wasn't lost on Michonne.

She didn't need to think twice about how she felt about the trip. "I want to come too."

He shot her an incredulous look. "Are you sure about that?"

"Completely."

"I know you're struggling with this," he said softly. "We all are. It's difficult not knowing. Especially with the nightmares." She knew he must have heard her on some especially terrible nights. "I hate not knowing what's happening. I also hate that I'd be leaving Carl alone if I decide to go."

Michonne felt the tightness in her throat as images of Sasha and her parents invaded her mind. "I moved to King County to run from my problems. Get a fresh start. I haven't spoken to my mother in almost a year." She folded her arms as she tried to steady her breathing. "I was so…angry, but now it doesn't matter anymore, you know? I've lost so much. It hurts not knowing because I love my Mom so much. She was the best mother she could be and I may have lost her too."

His arms encircled her, pulling her body against his. She didn't realize that tears were escaping her eyes until she leaned her head against his chest, allowing the wetness to accumulate on his shirt. "It's driving me crazy," she gasped out as memories of the little boy named Andre filled her mind.

"It's okay," Rick said, rubbing her back. "We'll figure it out."

She laughed humorlessly, lifting her head to meet his eyes. His arms brought her unbelievable comfort. "I'm so sorry for piling this on you." She tried to step out of his embrace, feeling very embarrassed, but he didn't let go. "I'm not usually like this with people at all."

"I don't mind," he assured her. "It's good to let things out. I've been told that I keep things in and don't talk enough.""

"Same." She gave him a teary smile. "Thank you."

"For what?" His eyes drifted over her face, lingering on her lips. Michonne understood that look and it wasn't the first time he had it. Her breath caught in anticipation, wondering if this would be the point where he went beyond longing looks. In that moment, she was almost positive that their lips would finally meet.

A loud whistling broke them out of their sensual staring contest. They whirled in the direction of the noise to find two men standing a few yards away. One of the men held a large crossbow while the other larger man held a rifle over his shoulder.

"Well hello there," the larger man said in a raspy voice. "What do we have here?"

Rick took a step forward, partially shielding Michonne as his hand twitched toward his colt python. Something about the men, particularly the larger one, made him uneasy. "Can we help you?"

"Can you help us?" The man laughed, rubbing his stubbly face. "I don't know. Depends on what you offerin'." His eyes raked over Michonne's body in a predatory manner. "We'll take any help we can get."

"We're tryin' to escape those dead things," the man with the crossbow piped in, casting a wary look at the larger man. "I guess y'all are doin' the same."

"Oh right!" The larger man guffawed. "Where are our manners, baby brother?" He shot an insincere grin at Rick. "I'm Merle and this is my brother Daryl. We're kinda like survivalists. Very in tune with nature and all that mumbo jumbo. Rednecks to the core." He sounded as if he were pitching tagline ideas. "We can help you out in this wilderness. Right Daryl?"

"Right."

Rick appraised the two men wearily. "I'm Rick Grimes." He glanced at Michonne over his shoulder. "This is Michonne."

"Hmm." Merle stroked his chin before opening his mouth as if to say something. He chuckled and shook his head. "I'll keep that one to myself for now." He mumbled something that sounded like 'liberal type'.

"Y'all camped out 'round here?" Daryl asked, his eyes moving around the woods as if he expected to see a tent or shelter he missed before.

"Yes. There's a group of us here."

Merle's eyes twinkled with mirth. "If it ain't a bother, we'd really appreciate it if you let us rest with you." He looked to his younger brother. "We been walkin' for days. And like I said, we can help you out however we can. People out here eatin' each other like savages. We gotta stick with the  _good_  type of people." His eyes drifted to something to the side. "We'd make some traps that actually work too."

Rick and Michonne exchanged an uneasy look. They could see the distrust in each other's eyes, but at the same time they both knew they had to tread carefully. "It's no bother." He looked back to the two men, his expression resolute. "We just need to set a few ground rules first. I'm sure you understand."


	8. The Strangers

_"What if nobody showed up at Armageddon?"_  ― C.R. Strahan

* * *

 

"I don't trust them," Rick said in a low voice, looking at the two men wearily. They stood on the opposite side of the camp from Rick, Glenn and Michonne setting up a spot to rest and acquainting their selves with the group.

Daryl Dixon, the younger man, had brought along a motorcycle that he had stashed away in the woods. They also brought a very large deer to the camp as a peace offering. It made Michonne uneasy and suspicious of the men's timing and she wondered if they were being watched before they were approached in the woods.

"Same."

"I can't believe they might have been watching us though," Glenn mused. "It's a little weird to be honest. I hope they're not…"

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," Shane barked as he approached them. He didn't sound happy. "Can I talk you man?"

Rick's brow furrowed, probably worried and wary about what new issue was eating at his friend. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Who the hell are those people?"

"I told you before," he said, keeping his voice low. "We ran into them when we were out checking the traps. They were interested in a place to stay. I don't trust them, but I got the feeling they already knew where we were. Why not keep them close and have a careful eye."

Shane was seething. "So you  _brought_  them back here? Why?" His enraged eyes landed on Michonne. "Was it the first lady's idea?"

"Shane." Rick's voice was filled with warning as he took a step toward his best friend. Glenn looked apprehensively between the three of them before slowly inching away. He could sense the tension between them and he wasn't keen on getting stuck in the middle of their row.

"You're the self-appointed leader, but you don't even stop to think about this?" He glanced back at the unruly men. "They look like criminals."

"I did think about it." Rick ground his teeth as he tried to reign in his anger. He was itching to punch his friend in the jaw. He found himself doing that a lot lately whenever he spoke to Shane. "I always think about our safety. And I didn't appoint myself anything. I was under the impression that this was a leaderless group. We all make contributions and decisions and everything is mutual."

Shane chuckled humorlessly as he started backing away. "Sure. Whatever you say Rick. Keep telling yourself that bullshit."

"Shane, we're all just trying to survive here," Michonne interjected, amusedly observing Glenn's escape from the uncomfortable exchange from her peripheral vision. "We need to put these personal issues aside. Squash this. Division isn't going to help us."

"We can ask them to leave, but what the hell would that change? We have to think rationally Shane."

"Well I'm thinking about Carl," he spat. "Your son. But I forgot, you only think about yourself. Nothing gets in the way of what Rick Grimes wants. That's why she left. Everybody has to do as he says and fall in line." His voice was growing slightly louder and people started curiously looking in their direction. "Especially when he has a new obsession."

Morgan approached them as Shane once again stormed away to stew in his anger. "Trouble amongst the citizens?"

Rick sighed pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head at his troubled friend. He wished he could return to a time when things were not so tense. He couldn't quite understand what was truly wrong with Shane. They were long overdue for a talk. "What a life."

"Don't I know it." Morgan looked over his shoulder to where Merle talking to Andrea in the sleazy way he did. "Interesting pair."

"We think they may have been watching us for some time," Michonne said in a low voice. "They definitely were when we were looking for the traps. Something's…off."

Morgan nodded in understanding. "We're all just trying to survive. They were probably looking for people to settle with, but we should definitely keep a close eye. If they were watching us, the fact that they haven't done anything is a positive sign. If they can pull their weight, we can use some help around here. There's strength in numbers, if we ever run into any walkers." He glanced at Merle again. "I don't want that one too close to Duane and my Jenny though. We should probably invite them to come out to Atlanta with us. Leaving them behind won't be the best idea."

"By the way, I'll be coming with you," Michonne informed him.

"Speaking of pulling weight," Rick said. "We didn't catch anything, but that's a lot of meat Merle and Daryl brought."

"I saw that," Morgan laughed. During the month they spent on the mountain, Morgan had become the unofficial cook of the group. He had a way of making things delicious with what little cooking supplies and condiments they had. The small stove in Dale's RV came in handy for that. "I'm prepared to whip us up a deer feast."

Michonne rubbed her stomach, happy to not have to eat trout for the sixth day in a row. "I'm looking forward to that. I'm grateful for your amazing cooking skills, but I really wasn't feeling trout again."

"The feeling is mutual," Morgan said with a wink.

"I actually like trout, but I can't argue with that," Rick chuckled. "Need us to do anything to speed things up?"

"We're running a little low on water," Morgan said. "Andrea and Glenn collected some this morning, but that was before…" He cut his eye to the camp's new inhabitants. "I could always ask them to make another trip. It's not like it's far or anything."

Rick put up a hand, brushing off the suggestion. "It's fine. We can go." He looked at Michonne with a smirk. "I have to make up for my traps not catching us any dinner."

Michonne and Rick walked down to the River in comfortable silence. Her mind was flooded with the memory of their encounter in the forest before Daryl and Merle showed up. She stole quick glances at him as they walked, wondering if he thought about it as well or if it was insignificant in his mind. Although she saw no evidence to support it, it sometimes bothered her that Shane referred to Rick as a selfish person and to her as an infatuation.

Allowing herself to have those types of feelings again also terrified her. She wasn't entirely sure that she was in the right headspace for it.

"So you've been teaching Carl to fish?" Rick asked conversationally once they arrived at the river. "He won't stop talking about it and how great you are. You're apparently one of the best people in the world at catching fish. Shane and I are amateurs in comparison."

She shrugged playfully as she sat on a rock near the river bank to remove her boots. "That is true and you can't dispute the truth."

"Are we gonna talk about what happened earlier in the woods?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up and raised a brow at him feigning confusion. "Merle and Daryl? I thought we agreed that they've probably been watching us for a while. We literally spoke about it ten minutes ago."

He glanced at her from under his lashes as he started kicking off his own shoes. She could see that his demeanor was changing. He was a little less confident. "Not that thing," he mumbled, wondering if the moment they shared was simply a symptom of her grief and his offer of comfort.

Her lips started curving into a cunning smile. She found his sudden hesitancy charming. "Traps?"

She wasn't sure where the self-assurance came from but he stooped down next to her, meeting her eyes with an intense gaze. "Warmer."

He was flirting.

"Hmm." She pretended to ponder his words. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation and she dug her sore toes into the loose soil as she contained her delight. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. "I don't know. What else was there? I can't seem to remember."

"Well, I'm sure you will so let me know when you do." Once again, his eyes drifted over her face, lingering on her lips. The attraction was clearly mutual. He reached behind him, grabbing a bucket and an empty water jug.

Michonne watched as he approached the water, leaning over to fill the jug. She rolled up her pants to her knees before grabbing a bucket of her own. She stepped past him entering the water and wading to where it was clearer. Michonne glanced back to where Rick was still stooped down by the bank. "Don't tell me this is your first time gathering water this month," she teased. The tasks of the group members had been divided equally and water has been usually the responsibility of Glenn, Andrea, Michonne or Jenny. Carol and Jenny had taken to washing clothes for the camp.

He chuckled as he stood up to enter the water, not bothering to roll up his jeans. "We can't all be amazing as you are. You're in a class of your own."

Michonne looked away as she filled her bucket. "Subjective," she muttered. "I'm not as amazing as you seem to think I am." His flattery pleased her, but at the same time she hated that he saw her as perfect when she was constantly reminded that she was far from it. Him thinking of her in that way would only lead to disappointment for the both of them. She made too many mistakes and was still haunted by her past transgressions. When she looked up Rick was still staring at her. His eyes traveled to her lips again.

"Suddenly, I think it's all coming back to me."

Now, it was his turn to feign ignorance. "What is?"

Without overthinking it as she usually would, Michonne took a step toward him so that they were facing each other. Before she knew it, their lips were connected. The bucket fell from her hands and her eyes closed as she brought a hand up to caress the curly hair at the nape of his neck that she often admired. He abandoned his water jug as well as his hands wound around her waist. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, but somehow it wasn't enough.

Rick broke away from the kiss, catching his breath. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"Hello again!"

Michonne and Rick whirled around, nearly tripping over each others feet to find Merle Dixon crouching near the riverbank an impish grin on his face. "What the hell?" she hissed in a low voice. "Why is he…?"

Rick kept an arm around Michonne's waist. "Can we help you with something Merle?"

"Nah. Didn't know I would be interrupting anything. Just came to get cleaned up before dinner." He held up his hands. "It's been a while. Just wanted to make a good impression tonight. Besides, there ain't no water in the camp." He raised his eyebrow and looked pointedly at their position and the abandoned containers. "Who's in charge of that? I thought everbody had "responsibilities" and took 'em  _seriously_."

Rick let out a low growl as he let go of Michonne, grabbing for the bucket and the water jug. "This fucker," he mumbled as he handed the bucket to Michonne. In that moment Michonne knew Merle was going to be a constant thorn in their side. They made quick work of filling the water containers before making their way back to camp, leaving a leering Merle by the river.

* * *

 

" _This_  is deer meat?" Carl asked, scrunching up his nose. The entirety of the small camp gathered outside the RV to enjoy their "feast".

"Try it." Rick said between bites. He leaned around Michonne to look at Carl who was seated on her other side. "Tastes just like chicken." Carl didn't look too convinced.

"It's  _really_  good," Michonne sang as she brought a piece to her mouth, chewing dramatically. "Yummy. Morgan got rid of most of the fat and he brought out some of his best seasonings. It's even better than river trout.  _So_  much better. Even Eliza and Sophia like it." The oldest of the Morales girls looked up at the sound of her name, grinning in Carl's direction.

"Okay," he said, apprehensively as he stabbed a piece with his fork. "I'll  _try_  it. Can I have a Big Kat if I don't like it?"

She pretended to contemplate his proposal. "Tell you what. If you eat most of what's on your plate, including the beans, I'll give you a Big Kat. Protein first, okay?"

Carl brought the meat to his mouth, taking a dainty bite. He chewed slowly, still wearing a sour expression. "It's not so bad."

She smirked. "Told you."

Rick threw her a playful scowl as he leaned closer to her to whisper in a low voice. "You're practically a superhero to him. He'll listen to whatever you say. It's like magic. You could probably even get him to eat cauliflower."

Michonne stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Nobody likes cauliflower. I guess I've always been pretty great with kids." Before the words fully left her lips an unwelcome sadness settled within her as memories from her past once again flooded through her mind. She swallowed hard trying to shake the harrowing sensation within her.

Rick noticed the change in her expression, but he decided not to say anything, and she was grateful for that. There were many buried occurrences that she wasn't keen on reviving yet. Instead they quietly returned to their meal, occasionally pretending to listen to and participate in the various conversations around them.

Shane cleared his throat after some time. "So Merle." He placed his empty plate near his feet as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Where'd you say you guys were from again?"

"Not far."

"Where's that?" he pressed, his eyes flitting to Rick pointedly. "Not far? A county over?"

Merle cackled loudly, bits of food escaping his mouth. "Sure."

"Whatdja you do for a living?"

"What does that matter?" Daryl asked in an annoyed tone, his face twisting into a disdainful scowl.

Merle laughed even louder, his mirthful eyes moving around the camp. Everyone grew incredibly quiet, the tension thick in the air. "What did the Chinese kid do? And the  _Mexicans_?" His scornful gaze moved from the Morales family and landed on Morgan. "Did you play twenty questions with  _him_  like you're doin' with me." He sucked his teeth, stroking his chin. "What did he do? You had a  _job_ boy?" he taunted, his voice filled with malice.

Jenny's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" Jenny dropped her fork in her barely touched plate of food, turning to her husband. "I told you this man was giving off some weird vibes. I don't understand why they are even here. They're strangers. I don't give a shit if they were watching us." Duane gasped as his mother's uncharacteristically crass language.

Merle held up his hands as he often did. "My apologies. I'm just curious as to why Mr. Shane over here seems so 'spicious of me and my brother." He rested his chin in his palm. "We're good people. I'm a hunter and a… _mostly_  honest man. I ain't never had nothin' handed to me so I didn't have a nice fancy job that I didn't deserve. I can hunt though, and  _that's_  what is going to help us survive out here.  _Not_  playing Top Chef."

"I'm going to call it a night," Jenny said heatedly standing up, mumbling something under her breath. Glenn squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Morgan stood as well, shooting a dirty look in Merle's direction. "We'll see everyone in the morning. We prefer  _polite_  company." He pointed a finger at Merle. "You just remember that you came into our camp so you're gonna show some respect. Step out of line and I won't hesitate to beat your ass."

"Come on," Daryl said. "Merle ain't even mean no harm. He just doesn't pick the right words sometimes. What's wrong with you?"

Merle shrugged. "Look here, we the rural type you know. And I ain't had much schoolin' like my brother here. I don't understand you people sometimes. No reason to be so sensitive. I ain't mean to be ornery. I enjoyed the nice meal you cooked us."

"Quiet Merle," Rick growled. "We had an agreement. We brought you two back to our camp and allowed you to be amongst our people. If you're going to stay here, you're going to respect every damn person here." Rick stood up. "I don't trust you or your brother, but we're willing to give you a chance to prove that you're worth keeping around. It's a crazy world out there and we, the living, have to stick together and respect each other if we want to survive."

"I already said I was sorry that y'all are offended," he snorted. "The world is endin'. This is like Armageddon." He broke up the syllables of the words in an odd awkward way. "We're up against things that are going to eat us. Why is everbody so goddamn sensitive?"

"Alright then. Goodnight everybody," Jenny said, refusing to look in Merle and Daryl's direction. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed Duane's hand, heading in the direction of where her family slept. Morgan bid the group goodnight following after them.

"Thanks again for dinner!" Merle yelled after them with another grating cackle.

"Merle!"

"Well these  _Mexicans_  are leaving," Morales said, standing up as well. His wife and daughters followed suit.

"What's wrong with him?" Carl asked, looking up at Michonne whose eyes were shooting daggers in Merle's direction.

"Let's go get that Big Kat," she said, grabbing his mostly empty plate as she stood. She and Rick exchanged a look. She was in no mood to entertain the repugnant man's words or actions.

"Aw shucks," Merle tsked looking at Rick. "I offended your Missus too? My apologies. I always could clear a room."

Shane looked suspiciously between Rick and Michonne before a small, satisfied smile grew on his face. "Why am I not surprised?" He put his arms behind his head. "Such a wonderful decision bringing him here."

Michonne and Carl made their way back to the Jeep Cherokee. The thing about the camp was that it was so small, so even when a person wanted to avoid someone else they were never more than around thirty yards away.

"That man is really weird," Carl said as she rifled through her goodie bag for his new favorite treat. "He laughs too much and he's not even funny. I don't like him."

She sighed, holding out the Big Kat. "He's not a very nice man."

Carl hastily opened the snack, breaking off a piece for himself before holding out the other to Michonne. "Why did you and Dad bring him here then?" She took it with a smile. It had become a normal occurrence for them to split candy bars half-half. It didn't escape her notice that his half was always slightly larger.

"It's complicated," she answered vaguely. "Sometimes you have to do nice things even when you don't want to and when the person doesn't deserve it."

"Are we really staying here forever?" Carl asked as he bit into the candy. "That's what Duane and Eliza said. If we leave we'll get eaten."

Michonne was finding it harder to keep up the false optimistic pretenses as time went by. "I hope we don't have to stay here forever, but we very well could. Nobody knows how this will end."

"I think I miss school." He stared at the half eaten chocolate in his hand. "I miss my friends and I miss my teacher. I miss regular food too."

"You and me both." She nudged his shoulder. "Tell the truth. Was the deer actually good?"

He twisted his mouth in disgust. "Better than trout." They both erupted into a fit of giggles. "I don't understand how my dad likes that stuff."

* * *

 

"Walk with me?"

As Michonne emerged from the tent, she looked up to find Rick smiling down at her. "Depends on where you want to go. It's late and it's dark out Sheriff. Everyone is asleep."

He held up a flashlight. "That's what I'm here for. I'll lead the way." He held out a hand, helping her to her feet.

"You're real smooth for a guy that claims he doesn't know how to talk to women," she smiled as they walked toward the trees. The camp was now darker, illuminated only by the embers of a low fire at the center. Most of the inhabitants had gone to sleep in preparation of another early day of surviving. She spotted Dale's silhouette in his usual spot in the chair atop the RV.

"Shane used to tease me about that when we were in school. I was a  _little_  awkward."

This surprised her. "Really? He made it sound like you were such a ladies man."

He shook his head. "Far from it. My ex-wife was the first real girlfriend I had and we got married at twenty. We were clueless kids playing house. I saw a few people in school and had a few crushes, but nothing as serious as her."

She blew out a breath. "Wow. And here I was thinking that you were a flavor of the week type of guy. Unless…after…"

"I went out on a date or two after we divorced."

"Aha," she grinned. "So that's what turned Shane into the forgotten stepchild. You have to ease them into these things gradually. Divorces are tough on the kids you know."

Rick threw back his head, letting out a belly laugh. "You're a comedienne too?"

"A jack of all trades."

Rick glanced at her, a look of admiration on his face. "I'm glad I met you. It took Carol killing Ed and some kind of apocalypse, but I did. I can't believe you were living next door for a whole week and we never even spoke."

Michonne smiled, bumping her shoulder against his arm. "Who knew it would take an apocalypse?" She was happy she finally got a chance to meet him as well. He reached out his hand, slowly moving it down her arm before clasping her hand with his. "Speaking of Carol, she seems to be doing a lot better."

"Yeah," he sighed. "She still won't talk about what happened to drive her to do that though. I had my suspicions that things weren't completely right, but…"

"He was abusive."

"She told you?"

"It's obvious," she said simply. "Which means he probably deserved it. I can't say for sure though. Maybe when she's ready, she'll talk. For now, it doesn't really matter. He's gone and all we can do is survive."

"We're meeting tomorrow to discuss going to Atlanta." He squeezed her hand. "We're running low on everything except trout and canned beans and we can't realistically stay up here forever. For all we know, things could be getting better over there. Maybe they're close to solving this thing. Maybe it's solved. We haven't seen those walker things since we've been here."

Michonne shook her head. "A week ago, the radio was still picking up warnings. I'm not so sure about that."

"We won't know for sure unless we leave. See what's happening and what's left," he replied. "A lot can happen in a week. If things are still chaotic and if people are still getting eaten, at least we'll know for sure how much trouble we're in. At least we'll be able to get more supplies for the camp." He nudged her. "Maybe another tent?"

Michonne playfully raised her eyebrows at him. "We only just kissed today. You're already planning on shacking up?"

"God," he groaned. She could tell by his voice he was slightly embarrassed and probably blushing. "You are somethin' else. I don't think I've ever met a woman quite like you."

"As long as that's a good thing, I'll take it Sheriff." Her eyes moved around the dark woods. "So, any particular reason we're wandering around in the dark? We usually have these late night talks back at the camp. Why the sudden change?"

"Walking clears the mind a lot better and I  _really_  enjoy your company."

"Pure intensions," she joked, pretending to be awestricken. "I'm impressed. Here I thought you just wanted to get me alone and away from the light sleepers."

Rick shot her a sideways glance, coming to a halt. "Mostly pure." He pulled her close, her heart skipping a beat in anticipation. He slowly pushed her backward until her back was against a nearby tree. For a moment, he simply stared down at her in the darkness, their features only illuminated by the moonlight and the light of the forgotten flashlight by his side. He slowly leaned in, placing a tender kiss on her lips, his lips barely brushing hers.

Michonne remained still, leaning against the tree and allowing him to lead as she reveled in his tenderness. His lips brushed against the corner of her lips and then her cheek. His lips slowly moved to her neck, kissing along the length of her shoulder before traveling up toward her ear.

He grabbed her chin locking his lips with hers, his mouth more urgent against her own. His hands desperately moved up her side causing her blouse ride up in the process, his fingers digging into her bare skin.

She shivered at his touch.

Michonne was beginning to realize that she thoroughly enjoyed kissing Rick Grimes. It was already becoming her favorite pastime. She would spend the rest of her life kissing him if she could. It made her feel as if she was in a dreamlike trance. She was filled with a multitude of unfamiliar and intense emotions. She prayed it would never stop.

In that moment, they knew things were gong to go further than mere kisses this time.

"Rick!"

"Fuck!" Rick groaned exasperatedly at the interruption as he spun around to face the source of the voice. Michonne attempted to regain her composure. She pulled down her ridden-up blouse attempting to catch her breath.

They didn't immediately spot anyone in the darkness, but the voice came from the direction they came from.

"Rick!" It was Glenn and from the urgency and panic in his voice, they knew something must have happened at the camp.

"Over here," Rick yelled, waving his flashlight for Glenn to identify their location. "What's wrong? Is it Carl?"

Glenn appeared before them, breathing heavily from his dash through the forest. "It's Jenny Jones," he breathed. "She's  _really_  sick."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constantly getting interrupted! 
> 
> What an impression Merle is making. And what's wrong with Jenny?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	9. The Silence

_  
"I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence."_

― Neil Gaiman,  _The Sandman: Endless Nights_

* * *

 

Michonne's eyes welled with unshed tears as she stood over the patch of earth amongst the small gathering of people who she had grown to care deeply about. Intermittent raindrops fell from the gray afternoon sky, the sunshine from the previous day nowhere in sight. The soft sobs of Duane Jones filled the air as he pressed his face into his father's side, deep sobs erupting from his little chest. "Mommy," he repeated, in a muffled voice.

To children, their parents always seemed like indestructible beings that would be around forever. Duane, at the young age of ten, had come to learn that his mother was not exempt from life's only assurance.

The rest of the group remained silent, still processing the extent of their unexpected loss. Carl reached out taking Michonne's hand with the one that wasn't holding his father's. Her dejected eyes met his as her throat tightened and the knot returned to her stomach. It was becoming more and more apparent that she couldn't escape the complexities of life, no matter how tempting or how much she tried.

It was time to face life and the new world.

Daryl Dixon sat near a similar patch of dirt a few meters away, looking on as the group mourned the loss of one of their own.

"Jenny was the greatest woman I ever knew," Morgan finally rasped as he continued rubbing his son's back. "There was no one else like her. Rest easy my love."

"We'll miss you Jenny," Glenn said through teary eyes. Andrea started speaking after him, followed by others voicing their grief and paying their respects. Michonne slowly began to withdraw within herself as memories of her most recent loss flooded her mind. The words of the people around her grew muffled and distorted as she kept her eyes fixed on the patch of dirt, trying to reign in the anxiety and grief building inside her.

_Why is this happening and when does it end?_

* * *

 

**Thirty-six hours Earlier**

Jenny Jones' piercing guttural shrieks rang through the cool night, as if she was being mercilessly tortured. The entire camp was on edge.

"What's wrong with her, Dad?" Carl asked, clutching to his father's side as he looked at the place where members of the group were huddled over the woman.

"I'm…" Rick was unsure of how to explain the current situation. Another hour had passed since he and Michonne returned to the camp. "She's just sick. She'll be okay. Miranda will help her get better."

"Don't worry about it buddy," Shane said, ruffling his hair.

Carol approached Rick giving him a sympathetic look as she looked down at the young boy. The children needed a distraction while they figured out what was happening to Jenny. "Look who's up past his bedtime." She forced a smile.

"There's no such thing as bedtime anymore," Carl mumbled, rolling his eyes and looking away from the woman. It was clear that the boy was in no mood for the adult's antics. They tried to hold on to a sense of normalcy, but it was more than apparent that their lives were anything but normal. "We  _live_ outside."

"Carl." Rick's tone was filled with warning.

Carol continued as if the boy showed her no disrespect. She kept the grin, which was beginning to look like a grimace on her fatigued face. "Well I'm about to read stories in the RV with Sophia, Eliza, Louise and Duane. Would you like to come with us? There's some leftover cookies from yesterday."

"Sure," he mumbled as he averted his father's imploring gaze, following slowly after Carol.

Shane sighed, rubbing his head after they entered the RV. "This just keeps getting better and better huh? It's like we can't catch a damn break." He looked over to where Merle and Daryl stood looking on at the spectacle that was Jenny. "Brining those people here was a bad call. We could be next."

"Jenny?" Michonne said as she crouched down next to Morgan Jones and Miranda Morales to get a closer look at the woman who was making flailing movements. She held out the damp washcloth to Miranda. Jenny's brown eyes were unfocused and dazed but there was still a brightness in them. She rubbed her head against her forearm mumbling something unintelligible.

Michonne put her hand on the woman's overheated skin and glanced at Morgan. "I think her fever's getting worse. She's burning up. Could it have been the meat?"

Morgan shook his head slowly, a faraway look in his eye. "She barely ate anything. Her plate was full when she left for the night. I thought the row with that buffoon over there made her lose her appetite. She had a headache and a slight fever earlier. She took a nap this afternoon and she seemed fine. I thought she was coming down with the flu or something. She was mostly fine otherwise."

Michonne thought back to the Jenny she saw a few hours prior. The woman had been absent for most of the day, opting out of water carrying but she didn't recall any obvious telltale signs of illness. "And nobody here has medical experience?"

"I thought you were a nurse. That's why I sent Glenn. I thought you and Miranda could…"

"Lawyer," she clarified.

"I'm the only nurse," Miranda said. "I've never seen rabies in person, but I think this looks like it I was hoping you could offer some other ideas. I guess that won't be the case."

"Senorita over there might be right," Merle called nonchalantly, as he picked at his nail.

Michonne shot the obnoxious man an annoyed glare over her shoulder, before turning back to the woman. If Merle knew what was good for him, he would remain quiet. "What can we do? How do we find out for sure? Is there something we can give her?"

"Thirsty," Jenny whispered through deep rasping breaths. "Water please."

Morgan shouted for Glenn, who scrambled out of the RV with a glass of water in hand, securely shutting the door as to not alert the children. "I think she might be right about that rabies thing," he murmured, as he brought the glass to Jenny's lips. "Drink."

She shakily brought her head up, attempting to take a drink. She took a mouthful of water, before it slowly spilled out the sides of her mouth. She tried again with the same result. She was unable to swallow.

Panic settled within Rick as he looked on. Miranda shook her head sadly. "Definitely rabies."

"Oh God," Morgan groaned, holding his head as tears spilled from his eyes. "What can we do? She's sick!"

"Miranda?" Michonne looked at the other woman for guidance as she gently brushed Jenny's hair away from her face. "Jenny? What hurts? How do you feel?" Tears spilled from Jenny's eyes as she whimpered, making slight jerking movements.

Miranda looked apprehensively at the small group of people that were gathered around Jenny. "After symptoms appear…it doesn't matter. There's nothing anyone can do if it is rabies. She'll die."

Morgan's breath quickened. "Where could she have possibly gotten  _rabies_?" His eyes flitted to Merle.

Miranda shrugged helplessly. "A bite or a scratch from a rabid animal? From a bat? We are in the middle of the woods."

"Please. Don't say this to me." Morgan let out a strangled moan. "She's going to be fine. She needs to be fine. This doesn't make any sense." Fat tears spilled from his eyes as he clutched his wife's hand in his. Suddenly, he shot up and was in front of Merle in a flash. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, shoving him against a nearby car. "What did you do to my wife?"

"I ain't do a damn thing to her," he spat angrily.

"Get the hell off my brother," Daryl growled, shoving Morgan. "He ain't do shit to anybody. Whatever is wrong with that woman is not because of us."

"Morgan." Rick placed a hand on the distraught man's shoulder, before turning to Daryl with a warning glare. "The two of you better watch yourselves. If I find out you had anything to do with this…" He let the threat hang in the air.

Morgan returned to his wife's side on shaky legs. He dropped to his knees beside the suffering woman, deep sobs erupting from his chest. "You're gonna be alright baby," he said as he softly stroked her damp forehead. "You're gonna be just fine. You'll get better. It'll be like a miracle. We always make it through."

Morgan Jones remained at his wife's bedside for the remainder of the chilly night. He watched as her mouth slowly began to fill with frothy saliva and as the initial hallucinations took over and she slipped closer to delirium and madness. He made sure to whisper, "I love you" as many times as he could manage. He needed her to always understand that.

Nobody, other than the children and Carol slept that night. It felt impossible for them to close their eyes when one of their beloved friends was reduced to an uncontrollable, drooling aggressive heap who eventually had to be constrained for the group's and her own safety.

The paralysis began to set in the following afternoon along with even more severe hallucinations. They had no way to slow or control the symptoms. There was a rage within the woman as the madness began to set in and her urge to bite grew. It was during the late hours of the following night when Jenny's shallow breaths stopped and she was out of her misery.

"She's gone."

Michonne nodded her head as the sound of Morgan's tortured moans filled the camp. She wrapped her arms around herself as grief filled her. She had spent the last year trying to escape her grief and losses and yet death and despair still seemed to follow her. She took a shallow breath through her nose, as she turned away from Rick. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

"It just feels so unreal." Rick rubbed his tired eyes.

"I just keep thinking 'how could this happen'?" she murmured, making sure to keep her back to the place where the woman lay. "Why her? Why now when we have even bigger threats than rabid animals?" She looked up at the dark starry sky. "Something scratched her a few weeks ago when she was out with Glenn. It might have been a raccoon or a skunk. It broke the skin but she didn't think much of it." Michonne sucked in a breath. "I feel so bad for Duane. Having to wake up tomorrow to find his mother gone is the most devastating thing that could happen to a child."

"Yeah, that little boy loves his Momma so much," he sighed. "It's gonna be hard for him. I just can't imagine."

"Oh my God Morgan!" Andrea screeched. Michonne whirled around to see the profiles of a panicked Andrea and Glenn pulling Morgan backwards by his shoulders.

Rick and Michonne quickly approached them as the distraught man threw his head back, letting out a tortured scream. "What's wrong? What's going on here?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she identified the cause of the panic. Jenny Jones' eyes were wide open and were a film-like gray in color. Her lips, which were covered in her dried saliva, were slightly parted and a strange snarling noise emanated from her throat as she reached up attempting to grab at Morgan.

"Jenny!" An unnatural high-pitched sound left Morgan's throat as he reached out for his wife.

"Is she…?" Michonne couldn't bring herself to finish her thought out loud. Her heart raced as she watched the movements of the woman who was supposed to be dead.

"She's turning into one of them!"

"How is that even possible? Was she bitten or something?"

Jenny's sallow body rose to a standing position on unsteady feet. Her dull, empty eyes flitted to the people around her as she prepared to pounce. "Morgan. Get. Back." Glenn grunted, as he pushed the man out of the way, struggling to keep the man in his hold. "Think of Duane."

"Jenny!" the man cried desperately. "My Jenny."

"Walkers!" Dale yelled looking toward the trees. Michonne and Rick turned to face the place between the trees that caught the man's attention. A group of walkers was emerging from the trees approaching them.

"Take cover!" Rick bounded over to the tent where he and Carl slept, pulling the sleeping boy out and managing to wake him in the process. "Get down on the floor and cover your ears." He flung open the back door of the nearby car, shoving his son inside and reaching for his gun. The remaining inhabitants began scrambling for cover as their temporary home was invaded.

Glenn, Andrea and Michonne had managed to pull Morgan inside the RV and away from the reanimated Jenny. Shane's gun was already at the ready as he leaned out of the passenger side of his wrangler, firing at the incoming horde. Dale did the same from the top of the RV while Daryl made use of his crossbow.

Rick crouched in between his and Morales' cars, attempting to accurately fire at the walker's heads.

"Oh Fuck!" Merle yelled as even more walkers emerged from the dark woods. He fired his gun with wild abandon, causing Rick to grow uneasy. "These fuckers are gonna kill us. It's all that fucking noise that idiot over there was making."

Jenny's reanimated corpse latched on to a distracted Merle's arm, tearing at the flesh. His arm jerked violently as his blood gushed out of his arm. "You bitch!" He forcefully shoved her away with his arms, all the while yelling at the top of his lungs in intense pain.

A single bullet exited Merle's forehead, cutting his screams short and bringing him to his knees as his deep red blood slowly ran down his forehead. Rick looked up to see Shane who was now out of his car, standing a few feet behind Merle, gun still pointing at the spot where the man's head was.

He fired his gun once again, at a nearby walker before meeting Rick's stunned eyes with his cold vacant ones. "It had to be done. He was bit."

The four remaining men continued to fire their weapons until the last walker fell and the camp grew completely silent. Nearly a minute passed before Daryl Dixon realized his brother was no longer standing.

"Merle!" He ran over to the spot near Shane and Rick where Merle's body lay face down in the dirt. He glowered at the two men standing over him. "What did you fuckers do to him?"

"Look at his arm. He was bitten," Shane said with a nonchalant shrug. "I did what I had to do."

Daryl pounced at Shane, punching him square in the jaw. "You evil bastard!" Shane fell back against the car, sputtering out blood as he wiped his mouth. The younger Dixon brother was on him discharging punishing blows against his face. Shane managed to get his bearings and began delivering heavy barraging blows of his own against Daryl's stomach and face.

Rick stood back watching the two men fight, contemplation on whether stepping in would even be worth it. He wasn't particularly fond of either man in that moment and was content in not intervening.

There was a faint tapping noise behind him and he turned to find Carl's terrified face staring back at him. He slowly opened the door entering the car and pulling his son into his arms. The boy pressed his face against his father's arm as frightful tears spilled from his eyes.

"It's okay son," he said, rubbing the young boy's back. "Everything's fine."

"You keep saying that, but it's not," he cried. "You said Jenny would be okay, but she's dead isn't she? Nothing is okay. You know that and you keep saying it is. That makes you a liar. Don't lie."

Rick looked down at his son, mouth agape and unsure what to say. The expression on Rick's face confirmed what Carl already knew. Nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

"How did Jenny even turn if she wasn't bitten?"

Dale scratched at his gray head of hair. "Maybe she  _was_  bitten."

"I'm thinking it probably doesn't matter," Rick said staring out at the trees. Dawn was beginning to break as most of the group stood at the center of the camp. "I was listening to the radio the other day and there was a warning from the CDC about a virus that might be what caused this mess. Maybe this is just what happens when people die."

"Maybe the raccoon was actually a walker and this  _thing_  is like an intense form of rabies," Dale suggested. "I mean, has any of us witnessed an actual reanimation?" It didn't escape Michonne's notice that Carol shifted uncomfortably at Dale's suggestion.

"It's all maybe's these days," Michonne said with a humorless chuckle. "There's no more certainties. Our friend just died and we don't even…"

"I think we need to leave this place," Morales said, putting an arm around Miranda. "If those walkers found us, more could be coming this way. We're out in the open with no barriers and we don't need any more surprises. We need somewhere safer than this. We can't stay here forever."

"With that big ass camp fire and this dumbass was makin' so much fucking noise so of course they found us," Daryl grunted angrily as he gestured to Morgan who was now huddled over his wife's body. He had since managed to calm down a bit after his fight with Shane. "That's what attracts them and he still won't shut the hell up."

"That man just lost his  _wife_ ," Rick growled. "You are going to show him some respect. You're lucky you're even still here."

"And I just lost my brother because of this asshole. He was the only family I had left," A swollen-faced Daryl roared as he took a step toward Shane. "You want more of this?"

"Okay stop it," Michonne said, holding up a hand and stepping into the center of the gathering. More fighting and noise was the last thing they needed at the moment and Daryl was definitely the confrontational type. "Everyone is on edge right now after what just happened, but we can't allow ourselves to lose sight of our situation. We need to figure out what we are going to do next."

"We leave," Morales repeated in a hard tone. "Let's go to Atlanta or find another camp with more people and resources and organization. We were headed to a National Guard refugee camp outside Atlanta we heard about when the walkers surrounded us on that highway that night. We can probably get there now."

"Leaving is an option," Rick allowed. "What do you think? Dale? Glenn? Andrea?"

"I also think we should leave," Andrea said. "You said you heard a message from the CDC on the radio. The CDC is in the Atlanta area. Maybe they have something set up for survivors as well. Especially if this is some kind of virus. I'd think the National Guard would probably be working with them."

"I agree," Dale said, as Glenn nodded his head in agreement with the older man.

"Shane?"

"Whatever our mighty leader decides is fine with me." He tried to keep his tone light and teasing in an attempt to indicate that he meant no malice, but his resentment couldn't be completely hidden from Rick's eyes. There was still something off between them.

"Is anyone against going to Atlanta?"

"No," Morgan rasped, finally acknowledging the conversation. He looked up, meeting Rick's eyes. "We should leave. The children and…we  _need_  to leave. Somebody out there has to know what's going on. After we bury her, I'd like to leave."

Duane and the other children were asleep inside the RV and they, other than Carl, were still somewhat oblivious to the extent of the loss the group faced. While the gunshots and screaming certainly woke them, and they were well aware of Jenny's illness, they were still sheltered from the horrors of the world.

"I guess we better start packing up and drawing up a plan then," Rick sighed. "We'll leave today. Let's aim to be out by late this afternoon."

The people moved to the respective areas gathering their belongings and preparing for their morning routines. Michonne and Rick gathered around the Jeep Cherokee with Glenn, Shane and Andrea as they studied a map.

"We won't have to worry about traffic," Glenn said. "Only blocked roads from when people…died. We're going to need to stay close and not stop unless we really have to. We could run into hordes like when Rick and Morgan went."

Rick nodded, meeting Michonne's eyes. "So no pullin' over unless we have to. We have to keep moving once we leave this place."

"Are we aiming for the CDC or…another camp?"

"Whatever we find will be good," Shane answered. "Any sign of civilization would be nice. Especially with some proper leadership."

"So I was thinking this route and then we'll double back that way." Rick traced out the route with his finger.

It wasn't long until they came to an agreement on the plan and Andrea and Glenn left to fetch water for their trip. Shane went to check on their ammunition and make sure the people were properly armed in each car.

Michonne eyes swept over the open space of their small camp. She looked up at the overcast sky where the rain seemed indecisive as to whether it would come down or not. She lifted the dismantled tent as she watched Morgan and Daryl digging holes for the bodies of their loved ones. She quickly looked away, fighting the feelings of grief that consumed her.

"Hey," Rick said softly, as he took Michonne's free hand. "You okay?"

She turned to make eye contact with him, her throat tightening as she met his tired eyes. The past day had been dreadful beyond words. It was as if all her worst fears were coming to life. It was as if unfortunate events followed her wherever she went and it was tiring losing people and watching others suffer. Especially now, that there was nowhere to run and no way to escape it.

There was no longer room for new beginnings in this world.

"I just…" she shook her head, feeling the all too familiar sting in her eyes. "When do we get to wake up from this nightmare?"

He sighed as he squeezed her palm tighter. "Yeah. I keep thinking the same thing." They stood in heavy silence, watching the small bustling group of people as the moved what little they had left in the world. A part of them knew that this was only the beginning of the pain and loss they would have to endure in the new world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such is life in the apocalypse.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Review and let me know what you think. What do you think will happen on that trip to Atlanta?


	10. The Road

_  
"And I felt, in the silence that followed, everything that had happened on the trip to bring me to this place."_ ― Morgan Matson, Amy & Roger's Epic Detour

* * *

_She stared blankly at the woman who was seated in her living room staring back at her with a small concerned smile. Her feet were bare and folded in front of herself. "Sweetheart," she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She must have let herself in with the spare key in hopes of catching her daughter for a conversation._

_"I don't want to talk right now Mom."_

_The older woman took a deep breath before meeting her daughter's impassive gaze. "I haven't seen you since the funeral sweetie," Winnie said quietly, reaching out to touch her daughter's hair. The younger woman recoiled causing her mother's face to fall. "Are you still mad at me? I would think after Andre you would…"_

_"I would what?" Her voice shook. "Can you just…I need some space Mom. I need time."_

_"Hiding away and avoiding your family isn't going to solve anything. You don't have to be alone. It'll be alright. We'll get through this together."_

_"Don't pull that crap with me," she snapped. "I'm fine being alone. Unlike some people I know. I'd rather be alone than..." She rubbed her face, looking away from her mother. "Now you care. When you were needed, you were too caught up in your own selfish affair, but now you want to talk about family. That's bullshit and you know it."_

_"Michonne." The woman rarely ever called her daughter by her given name. "I know you're hurt after what happened with your father, but please. We need to let that go now. It's okay to accept comfort." She took Michonne's hand in hers. "I was…I was heartbroken and grieving. I admit that I dealt with it badly," she cried. "But you have to understand that I was brokenhearted. Sometimes the heart –"_

_"Save it. The world doesn't revolve around you and your heart."_

_"Michonne please."_

_"I'd like you to leave now mother," she said quietly, as she wrapped her arms around herself. It felt as if she was falling apart from the inside. "Please. I'll…I need some time to grieve the death of my child. I'll call you if I need to. Just give me my space. I need to be alone."_

* * *

 

Michonne stared out at the rural lands of Georgia, squinting her eyes as she tried to make out distant figures amongst the landscape. She reached up, clutching the small silver "M" that hung on the necklace around her neck. She felt a pang of grief in her chest as her mind drifted to the time when it was gifted to her by her three-year old and his father.

They drove in silence along the empty roads, the events of the past forty-eight hours repeating on a loop through all their minds. Michonne glanced at Carl in the rearview mirror as he stared out his window with a blank expression. She had never seen the boy look so hopeless. She knew he struggled with understanding their situation and the finality of death.

"So far so good," Rick said, breaking her out of her reverie. He had been fighting the urge to reach across the console and hold her hand. She was clearly still affected Jenny's surprising death. They all were. "We'll be fine as long as we don't run into any large herds."

"We can always hide and wait them out if that happens," Michonne suggested. If they stopped their cars, hunkered down and remained silent, the walkers just might pass right through without posing much of a threat. "I doubt we'll run into any though. Those that came into the camp seems to be heading east. We'll be fine."

The RV slowed to a stop in front of them.

"I spoke too soon," Michonne groaned, leaning back into her seat, lightly banging her head in frustration. "We're jinxed. What could possibly be wrong now?"

Carl looked between the two adults in the front seat. "What's happening? Is it the walkers again?"

"I don't know," Rick said absently as he peered through the windscreen. "I really hope it's not another herd." He pulled his gun from his holster, cautiously gripping the door handle. "Stay here. I'm gonna go check on things."

"Rick!"

He opened the door and slipped out of the car, gun drawn and ready. Michonne watched as the RV door swung open and Glenn stepped out, gesturing to Rick that they were okay. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Maybe they were just having car issues.

"There's a crash ahead," Glenn yelled, pointing down the road. "We should help."

Rich made his way around the RV to join Glenn as Andrea emerged behind him with a bottle of water and the first aid kit. They were quickly joined by Shane and Daryl Dixon as well.

"Looks like we might be here a while," Michonne said turning to Carl. "Come on."

They cautiously moved toward the RV with memories of their last stop in the middle of a highway. Michonne silently hoped that this one would not end in the same way. "Get in," Michonne said, opening the RV door.

"I wanna see what's happening too," Carl whined, to which Michonne shot a disapproving look. He reluctantly entered the RV to join Carol and Sophia.

Some yards beyond the RV the rest of the group stood around an overturned truck in the center of the road.

 _How the hell do you crash a car on an empty road_? thought Michonne.

As she strolled towards them, she took notice of a portly dark-haired man who was slouched against the side of the crashed car. He had a nasty gash on the side of his forehead and his arm was bleeding. They must have just pulled him out. "I was trying to read the map to see how far I had gone and next thing I know the car is upside down," he rasped, his close-set eyes looking up at the people that surrounded him.

"Thanks so much for stopping and helping," he said. "I'm staying at a camp. My wife would have been crushed if I didn't make it back. We've already lost so many people."

"What kind of camp?" Shane asked as Michonne neared. His stance was defensive as he glowered down at the man. He didn't trust him.

"Military," he responded. "The National Guard set it up just outside of Atlanta after it first started. A lot of people got evacuated there from the city on the busses, but not everybody made it. Now we've got the community closed off and barricaded." He wiped the sweat from his ruddy face with the back of his hand. "I can take y'all back with me. It's safe and organized and we're maintaining order in this crazy world."

"Thank you. We were actually hoping to find something like that. It's lucky that we found you out here." Rick held out his hand to the man. "Rick Grimes."

"I'm Otis," the man said. "And you all?"

"That's Michonne, Glenn, Andrea, Shane and Daryl."

"It's nice to meet y'all." Otis straightened up, trying to maintain his balance. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? We don't want to be out here when more of them show up."

"He can ride up front with me," Shane volunteered, suspicion clear on his face. "Lead the way,  _Otis_."

"I'll ride with them," Andrea said. "I'll get you patched up too."

"Okay." Rick looked around at his group's strongest members. "So it's a small change of plans then. We'll go to this community with Otis to see what it's all about. If they have the National Guard, that's a good thing. And depending on how this goes, we'll reconsider the CDC situation."

"It should be an easy trip," Otis said. "It's a little over an hour away and I didn't encounter much of them on my way over."

Rick, Michonne and Carl once again piled into their car as they sped along the Georgia road. As they drove alongside a river, Carl leaned forward between the seats. "Where exactly is the man taking us?"

"He says he has a community," Rick answered. "It's someplace safe. Safer than where we were in the woods."

"Do we still have to sleep in tents?"

"What?" Michonne gasped in faux surprise. "You're telling me you didn't enjoy our extended camping trip?"

"I was over it after about the first week," he giggled. "I like camping, but not that much. Plus there were way too many bugs out there. I have bites in strange places." He shuddered at the thought.

"I'm sure you'll miss having delicious trout for breakfast," Rick chimed in, grinning at his son through the mirror.

"Eww Dad No." Carl wrinkled his nose. "Everybody still hates trout. They're fun to catch, but horrible to eat."

"Different tastes."

"I wonder if they have food from before," Carl said. "I miss pizza and fish sticks. I miss lasagna too."

"I know." Michonne gave him a soft smile. "I miss soy milk."

"Gross! Why?" He stuck out his tongue in disgust. "You guys have horrible taste in food. Soy milk is so gross. I tried it once and almost puked."

"What you need is a nice plate of Georgia's finest trout with a tall glass of soy milk," Rick teased. "That will be our welcome meal."

"I'd take anything over that. Even my Mom's lumpy Sunday pancakes."

Rick was surprised by his son's casual mention of his mother. They still had no idea where she was or if she was even alive and he worried about how his son was taking it especially with what happened with Jenny Jones. Michonne noticed the change in Rick's demeanor and offered him a comforting smile.

"Wanna play 20 questions again Michonne?"

"Okay," Michonne said, sitting up in her seat. "Are you asking or me?"

"I'm asking. And the winner gets the last Big Kat."

"Now I've really got to up my game." She rubbed her hands together as her katana on the back seat caught her eye. "Got it," Michonne said as she decided on her object.

"Is it an animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

* * *

 

An hour later, the line of cars pulled up outside a large makeshift gate comprising of spare pieces of plywood, tires, military trucks and galvanize. A burly man dressed in military fatigues made his way over the gate. "Otis?" he called as he approached the first car.

"Hey Nick!"

"What's all this Otis?" he asked, looking at the line of vehicles.

The group slowly began to emerge from their respective cars, approaching the front where the man named Nick was conversing with Otis.

"I got into a car crash and these kind folks saved my life. I brought them back with me," Otis said. "They're looking for a place to hunker down. I figured Woodbury might be it. The Major said we're looking for people."

"You're gonna have to talk to The Major about that first, but come on in." He started to pull the gate open. "Leave the cars out here until we figure this all out." He turned to the rest of the group. "I'm Nick Parsons."

Otis stepped out of Shane's car stretching his arms above his head. "This is it," he said. "Welcome to Woodbury. We're gonna take you to see Major Gavin. He's in charge around here so he'll explain everything nice and good. I doubt he'll turn you guys away, though. Everyone is welcome at Woodbury if they're willing to contribute to maintaining a functioning society." He said the words as if they were a pledge of some sort.

"He's in the office in his quarters." Nick called after Otis as they entered.

Major Gene Gavin had an imposing presence. The man stood well over six feet with a solid burly build. His blonde hair was worn in a flattop haircut and he was dressed in full National Guard Regalia.

The entirety of their small group, children and all, were huddled in what looked to be a former law office as the Major stood behind a desk shoulders squared and deftly silent.

"Where are y'all coming from?" he finally asked after regarding them for a few moments with his icy blue eyes. Something about those eyes left Michonne feeling unsettled. There was a certain emptiness and coldness to them.

"We had a small camp a few miles south. It got overran by the dead," Rick said stepping forward. "We were actually planning on checking out the CDC before we ran into Otis. His car had flipped over in the road."

"And you must be the leader of this fine group," he said as his lips formed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What do you call yourself?"

"I'm Rick Grimes," he answered evenly, not letting his distrust of the man apparent.

"Hmm Rick." He stroked his chin, his blank eyes unblinking. "You and your people are welcome to stay here at Woodbury. No use on checking the CDC because it's gone. It blew up about a week ago. That's the way it was designed." He took a seat behind the desk. "There's not much that can be done at this point in the way of science. We're in deep shit and whatever this is isn't going away anytime soon. So, me and the other remaining members of the National Guard are making it our goal to rebuild what we can and keep a functioning civilization."

Rick nodded taking in all of the shared information. "How many people do you have in a place like this?"

"Oh quite a bit," he answered vaguely. "It's a good amount and everyone has a purpose here. We have doctors, cooks and schooling for the children. We're functioning here, Rick. And all are welcome, but we run a tight ship."

His eyes scanned the group again, pausing a beat too long on Shane. "Philip will show you and your people around and find apartments for you to settle in. You'll also need to turn in your weapons and we'll discuss your contributions later. In the mean time you can get settled before you join us for our community gathering tonight."

"Why are we turning in our weapons," Shane asked, stepping forward. "How the hell are we supposed to protect ourselves?"

Major Gavin spread his arms out as if the answer was obvious. "You're surrounded by the National Guard. What more protection do you need? We keep the biters out and you," he gestured to the group. "Your job is to keep Woodbury functioning."

He stood up walking around to stand in front of his desk. "If you're interested in training to assist our Guardsmen in their protection of this fine place, that can be an option." He glanced at Rick. "You too. The invitation is open to all. We could use some more men to help clean up this world."

Shane seemed to consider his offer for a moment. "That sounds like an option."

The Major smiled again, as if he had just deciphered a riddle. "You must be his second in command." He watched as Shane's demeanor changed slightly. "Let me guess. You were police officers. A police chief or a sheriff, maybe and his…undersheriff?"

"Well, you're an observant one," Rick said, crossing his arms. "I was a sheriff."

"So I've been told," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Some people are just open books waiting to be read." He smoothed out his uniform and turned to return to his desk. "You're dismissed."

Half of the group was fighting the urge to collectively roll their eyes. Daryl mumbled 'asshole' under his breath as they left the infuriating man to his devices, to which Michonne gave a knowing smile.

Once they were outside The Major's office met a man who introduced himself as Philip Blake. "We have four empty apartments and we have extra beds in some places around here. The apartments should have beds for most of you. Families will want to stay together, I'm sure."

Woodbury comprised of what appeared to be the main street of a small town with a few surrounding houses. People bustled about quietly, looking on with curiosity as Philip passed by with the small group.

"Well we got the Morales family," Shane said, stepping ahead of the group to walk alongside Philip. "Then Carol and her daughter will need to be together and so will Morgan and Duane. And then we have our leader Rick and his little family. The rest of us can go anywhere." His tone was slightly mocking as he mentioned Rick's title as leader and Philip immediately sensed the obvious tension in the group.

Rick glared at the back of his friend's head, but decided against dignifying his petty gripe with a response. Shane wanted attention and he wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Rick never asked to be the leader of the group.

"We also have doctors available if anyone needs to be checked out," Philip continued. "The infirmary is right over there. It needs some work, but we're working on it. We're organizing and maintaining order and balance in the world."

In the end, Rick Michonne and Carl ended up in a shared three-bedroom apartment with Duane and Morgan. Sophia, Carol, Andrea and Shane were together in another and the Morales family took the last one. Daryl, Dale and Glenn settled elsewhere.

"Something's off about that Major guy." Michonne stood beside an open window in their second floor apartment, staring down at the community below She spotted Carol Peletier on the sidewalk opposite them, talking animatedly to another woman. "It's in his eyes. I don't know. I just don't trust him. He makes my skin crawl. I have a bad feeling about all this."

"I noticed that too." Rick came to stand beside her. "I don't like that we had to give up our guns and your katana either. I know they're the National Guard and they'll offer protection, but I don't know. Something is off."

When Philip asked them to turn over their guns, most of the group did it with little protest. However, Daryl nearly got into a physical scuffle with Philip before finally relenting and handing over his crossbow. Rick, on the other hand, was trying to pinpoint what was off about the place.

"We'll need to keep our eyes open and stay on the alert just in case. We have to be smart about this," she said. "I say we play along until we figure out what his game is. Maybe we're just overreacting."

"Maybe. If we're not, then we can find someplace else. In the mean time I'll look into that defense training thing." He glanced behind him. "At least we have beds now."

"We're one bed short though," she reminded him.

"I'm taking the couch. At least it's better than a sleeping bag in a tent." He took her hand in his, turning slightly to make sure Carl was still occupied in the other room with Duane.

Memories of their rendezvous in the forest nights before flooded her mind. His lips against hers. Her back against the tree. His hands snaking up her shirt. They both knew that sleeping arrangements may not be an issue for much longer.

"Well it's not like everyone doesn't think we're already together anyway," she said slowly. "Shane's comment certainly didn't help."

His eyes flitted to her lips and she knew exactly what he was about to do. As he stepped closer to her, they were interrupted by a light pap on the door. Rick groaned, cursing whoever it was under his breath. "Coming," he called as he made his way to the front door.

He swung open the door to find a face he thought he may never see again. She held a small basket in her hand while staring down at a clipboard and didn't immediately look up to see the person who opened the door.

"Lori?"

 


	11. The Gathering

_“Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive.”_

― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

* * *

 

Rick and Lori stared at each other. Neither one moved; neither one said anything. The silence was deafening, filled with disbelief and uncertainty.

“Oh my goodness,” Lori finally breathed, as she let out a sob. “How? What…” He stepped forward, pulling her into a hug he knew she most likely needed. “I can’t believe it. I’m so glad to see you. I was so worried. I tried to call, but…Is Carl here?” She peered into the house over his shoulder. “Is he alright?”

“He’s in his room,” Rick said, letting her go and stepping back to let her in. “He’s gonna be so happy to see you.” She let out a sigh of relief.

As Rick shut the door behind Lori, his eyes drifted to Michonne who was standing near the window at the edge of the small living room silently watching their reunion. He met Michonne’s eyes, giving her a small smile which she returned.

“Carl?” Rick called. “Come on out son. Someone’s here to see you.”

“Hello,” Lori smiled, politely holding out her hand as she and Rick entered the small living space. “I’m Lori. Carl’s Mom.”

“Michonne,” she said, shaking Rick’s ex-wife’s hand. She was unsure of what to introduce herself as. Rick’s neighbor? Something more than a neighbor? Did it even matter?

“Mom?” Carl stood in the hallway leading to the bedroom he shared with Duane with a look of disbelief on his face. As his mind registered what his eyes were seeing, he flew across the room and bounded toward his mother. She dropped to her knees, dropping the basket she carried to pull him into her arms. “Mommy!”

“My sweet boy.” Both Carl and Lori started to cry as they embraced. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I’m so happy you’re all right.”

Morgan and Duane emerged from one of the bedrooms, silently observing the reunion between the mother and her son.

“I’m welcoming the newcomers to the community and spreading the word about tonight’s gathering. I didn’t dream that you two would be here,” she said, as she pulled away from her son. “We’re all meeting in the square and there’ll be food and music and other entertainment. It’s going to be really nice.”

“It sounds nice.”

She noticed the two newcomers. “Hi, I’m Lori. Carl’s Mom.”

“Morgan. And this is my boy Duane. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you all.” She dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Who else is here with you, Rick?” she asked, looking back to Rick. “Anybody else made it? Leon? The Johnson’s?”

Rick shook his head sadly. “The Johnson’s packed up their car and left while we were still in King County and Leon didn’t make it. Carol Peletier and her daughter Sophia are here, though,” he answered. “Shane is here too. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to see you here.”

Lori averted her gaze, trying to keep a neutral expression but the brief flash of guilt didn’t escape Rick’s notice. “Oh wow.”

“Have you been here since the beginning?” Michonne asked.

“I have,” Lori answered. “I was so lucky that I was running late for work. I ended up on one of the evacuation busses that were taking people out of the city. Gene – Major Gavin, stepped up as our leader once we got here and we’ve been surviving and sustaining this community ever since. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here at a time like this. This is probably that last safe place left on Earth.”

While Woodbury was certainly safe, Michonne had her doubts about that statement.

The reverence in the woman’s voice when she spoke of their leader didn’t escape her notice either. Lori obviously had great respect for the man and certainly didn’t share Michonne and Rick’s initial feelings of suspicion and distrust that they felt upon meeting him.

“We have a tutor here,” she said looking back at Rick. “She used to be a teacher before all of this. We’re trying to set up something so the children can continue their lessons. This really is a great place and it will continue to be great as long as people do what they have to do.”

Rick nodded his head but offered no comment. He knew Lori well enough to know how idealistic and demanding she tended to be. It was the main reason they were now divorced.  She wouldn’t be the type of person to voice his feelings of uneasiness to. Especially since she was sold on this place. And while he had his reservations, there was nothing glaringly sinister about Woodbury. It was possible that he was simply being a little too paranoid.

“Sounds like a utopia,” Morgan said quietly as he moved to sit on the couch. His eyes were still bloodshot from all the tears he spilled for his wife. Michonne knew that the man was probably wishing that his wife had gotten the opportunity to see this “Utopia”.

Lori smiled tightly. “It’s pretty close to being one.” She smoothed down Carl’s hair with the palm of her hand, staring at the boy as if she couldn’t believe he was actually there.

“Y’all have gatherings like this often?”

“This is a little different from the other ones we’ve had,” she said simply. “We’ve been very careful with food from since the beginning. The men found a superstore nearby and that’s where we got most of the non-perishable food. Everything has to be tightly rationed and monitored so everything lasts and everyone to get a fair share. That’s why keeping personal hordes of food is forbidden.”

“Pretty soon you’ll have to start looking for more long-term food sources though,” Rick said. “Maybe farming. It seems like there’s a lot of people here. Lots of mouths to feed. What you have probably won’t last much longer.”

“The Major has all of that under control,” Lori said coolly, shooting Rick a strained tight-lipped smile. “He’s talked about stuff like that.”

“Sounds like he has everything under control then.” He decided to not bring up the makeshift wall.

“He certainly does.” She patted Carl’s head once again. “Anyway, I should really get going. I’ve got to go and welcome the rest of your group to Woodbury.” She picked up the basket from the floor. “These are some toiletries and stuff, so y’all freshen up. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask anyone around here. We also have a doctor if anybody needs any medical attention. I help out sometimes since I used to be a nurse before all this.”

Rick took the basket from her. “Thank you.”

“I’m just glad y’all are safe.”

* * *

 

That evening, Michonne walked to the large square at the center of Woodbury along with Rick, Morgan and Duane. Rick had suggested that Carl spend the rest of the day with his mother considering how long it had been since the two had last seen each other.

“This seems to be a well put together place,” Morgan said casually. As they walked, men in military fatigues would pass them, machine guns on their shoulders.

“It does.” Michonne still didn’t trust it though. “I hope it really is as put together as it seems. I want to like it here, but I just can’t shake this feeling.”

The place was bustling with people when they arrived. A long wooden table with a plethora of food and drinks stood outside the building that doubled as the pantry and armory. A large platform was erected in the center of the large square and a podium stood in the middle.

It was a wonder how they were able to put together such a grand display with the current state of the world. Michonne thought it would be a long time before she saw gatherings such as this one. It made her feel slightly out of place yet optimistic at the same time. She was filled with conflicting feelings about Woodbury.

“They certainly went all out,” Rick said wryly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “They even have good booze.”

Michonne looked around the crowd and as packed as it was, she recognized the familiar faces of their group amongst them. It seemed everyone was there except for Shane.

“Daddy look!” Duane said pointing. He tugged on his father’s hand, trying to pull him in the direction of the food.

The crowd suddenly grew quiet, their attention elsewhere. Michonne turned to see Major Gavin positioned behind the podium. He wore a formal Army Service Uniform and stood as if he were the most important person in the world, which didn’t particularly surprise her. He was an obviously pompous man. What gave her pause, was the people standing with him.

Behind him, stood a line of men in military fatigues that seemed representative of a small personal security detail. Phillip and a gray-haired man stood in front of them, a little to the right of the Major. To Major Gavin’s left, the dark-haired woman who had introduced herself as Carl’s mother, Lori, stood wearing a sleeveless white dress and a shimmering grin.

“Welcome,” Major Gavin bellowed. “Tonight is a very special night, as you all can see.” He gestured to their surroundings. “We don’t usually do things quite like this. This is a far cry from our races at the track.”

Michonne turned to see Rick staring slack-jawed at the overly formal stately display in front of them. “What on earth –” he mumbled.

“We already planned on a very important announcement tonight, but this afternoon when our very loyal Woodburian Otis returned, he brought back new members. So we’ll be celebrating two things here. Lori and I planned on sharing some great news with all of you, but now we have even more good news to add to it.” Major Gavin paused looking at Lori, who reached out and took his hand in hers. “I’ve asked Lori to be my wife and she accepted. Then today we were reunited with her son who came here with the newest group of Woodburians-to-be.”

The crowd applauded as people looked around themselves to catch glimpses of the newcomers. Michonne couldn’t help but notice that nobody seemed particularly overjoyed to be there.

“Okay, that isn’t weird at all,” Michonne mumbled, but loud enough for Rick to hear her.

“Reunited? He never even met Carl before today.” Rick shook his head. While he was surprised, this wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility. He knew Lori. “Funny she never mentioned any of _this_ earlier.”

“By the way, where _is_ Carl?” Michonne asked, craning her neck to see if she missed the presence of the small boy somewhere on or near the stage. He was nowhere near his mother, who stood staring at the man speaking with a dazed expression.

Rick clenched his jaw, his eyes moving around the crowd. “ _That’s_ a very good question.”

“So in that spirit, we would like everyone to enjoy the feast as we celebrate.” He wrapped an arm around Lori’s waist. “I’m in a generous mood! Eat, enjoy yourselves, and be thankful for Woodbury and your leader. Today we eat freely, with no worries about the rations. Consider this our gift to you.”

“So…this is an engagement party?”

Rick snickered as they turned away from the stage. “Who ever said people can’t get engaged in an apocalypse.”

She saw Daryl Dixon maneuvering through the small crowd heading in their direction and looking completely out of his element. While his brother was a pain, the younger Dixon seemed like the calmer more rational alternative. He had mellowed some since his fight with Shane, but Rick still wanted to keep a wary eye on him.

“Enjoying the party Dixon?” She called, getting his attention.

“It’s alright,” Daryl grunted, his eyes roaming around. His face still bared the scars of his scuffle. “I don’t like that guy, though. I ain’t never trusted them types anyway. Think they better than everybody.”

Rick and Michonne exchanged knowing a look., but kept their thoughts to themselves.

“Rick!” Lori was headed in their direction with the gray-haired man from the stage behind her. She gave a dainty wave as they looked in her direction.

“Lori,” he said with a tight smile as if she was the last person he wanted to see.

Her eyes flitted to Daryl before she quickly shifted her gaze to Rick and Michonne. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“I think it’s nice that you all get together and have a party to enjoy what you can of life.” Michonne answered diplomatically trying not to stare at the man who stood stoically behind Lori as if he were some type of bodyguard. “Especially with how the world is now.”

“Oh Yes. Definitely,” she nodded. “But that’s out there. We’re safe in here. We have the National Guard protecting us and it’s almost like how life used to be. And don’t forget you’re a part of this too. This is _our_ get-together.”

“It ain’t never gon’ be like how life used to be unless those walkers out there are gone,” Daryl grumbled. “Ain’t no escaping that no matter how many of them fancy uniform guys you got.”

Lori slowly moved her eyes to Daryl, keeping her expression as neutral as she could manage. It was clear from her face that she didn’t entirely trust the man. “Well so far we have. Let’s hope it stays that way. Negativity will get us nowhere.”

“Congratulations by the way,” Michonne said.

“Thanks! I’m already kind of like the First Lady of this place,” Lori grinned with a light shrug of her shoulders. “People look up to Gene and I so I think it will be a good thing in the long run.”

“I can see that,” Rick said. Michonne could hear the light sarcasm in his voice. “That was some announcement. He’s like a president. That really was _something_. I felt like I traveled back to a time before all this happened. Speaking of before, where is Carl?””

“Carl was with Annette and the rest of the Greenes.” She spun around as if she would find the boy behind her in the crowd. “They’re somewhere around. I spoke to him about all this earlier. He’s fine.”

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” Michonne said, gesturing toward the food as she backed away from them. She could tell things were about to get awkwardly tense.

She noticed Glenn near a layout of sandwiches, taking animatedly to a young brunette woman. Carl stood beside them, loading mini sandwiches onto a plate.

“Hey Glenn.” She grabbed a plate, trying to decide what she wanted.

His head popped in her direction as if she broke him out of a trance. “Michonne. Hey.”

“Hi Michonne!” Carl called through a mouthful of food as he too noticed her presence. “These taste so good! I think I love it here.” She smiled at the boy’s speedy acceptance of their new home. All it took was delicious food and Woodbury had won his heart.

She looked back to Glenn raising an eyebrow in question. “Maggie this is Michonne. Michonne Maggie.”

“Hi,” Maggie said with a little wave.

The two women shook hands. “You’re on of the few members of the new group that I haven’t met yet. It’s nice to meet you. Glenn and I live in the same building.” It was obvious from the look on Glenn’s face that he was completely smitten with Maggie. His cheeks were red and he kept glancing in her direction with a goofy grin.

“I see you’ve even met Carl.”

“Yeah, his Mom left him with my stepmother, Annette sometime in the afternoon.” She ruffled the boy’s hair. “She’s not feeling well though, so he came with me. He’s a cool kid.”

Michonne smiled at the boy, wondering how he felt about his mother’s engagement.

“You’re been here from the start too?” She wanted to get a feel for the place. How did the inhabitants really feel about Woodbury? Did they speak of it and Major Gavin with the same adulation as Lori? Was there any uneasiness? Fear?

“A few weeks after it started,” Maggie said. “My Daddy had a huge farm. Otis and his wife were with us. It was pretty secluded, but somehow, it got overrun. We barely escaped. We lost some family, but we ended up here.”

“Maggie was just telling me about the community garden her father wants to start,” Glenn pipped in. “He’s looking for helpers.”

“Lori mentioned farming. Good for sustainability,” she commented. “There’s a good number of people here.”

“Yeah. Some of them lived in the town before but most were evacuated from Atlanta.”

Michonne nodded, thinking of her last conversation with her sister. They were on a bus on their way to a safe zone. Probably somewhere like this. Throughout the night, she had been expecting to run into Sasha or Bob or Noah. “Busses right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “They had evacuation transportation ready In case of a large scale emergency. The dead coming alive seemed like a large enough emergency for them to bring out the busses and the National Guard.”

Glenn blew out a breath. “This is crazy huh?”

“We’ll survive,” she said confidently. “My daddy says that all we need is a little bit of hope and some prayer.”

“Well let’s hope he’s right.”

* * *

 

“ _Fun_ engagement party tonight,” Michonne said sarcastically as she plopped down on the couch in the small living room. She had changed into a comfortable tank top and loose shorts and wrapped her dreads in a messy bun atop her head.

Rick sat down next to her, having just checked on a sleeping Carl. “At least Carl got something out of it. He’s the son of the First Lady so that would make him the first kid, right?”

She laughed at his attempt at a joke on Lori’s earlier words. “It’s like a fantasy world in here. Almost like out there doesn’t exist anymore, which sounds great, but...I have a feeling we’re going to have to face it all sooner or later. That makeshift tire wall will only hold for so long. They have a nice set up here with nice people and it’s amazing how organized it seems after so little time, but I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Same. I’m just glad Carl found his mother.”

She watched him carefully, wondering how he felt about his ex-wife’s engagement. He seemed surprised to hear it announced, but like Carl he seemed otherwise unbothered by all of it.

“Yeah,” she said. “You know, on the entire ride here, a part of me was hoping that I would enter this place and find Sasha, Bob and Noah waiting on the inside. They would all be completely safe.” She let out a sigh, pulling her knees to her chest. “That’s what I get for hoping for what I don’t deserve. I spent months avoiding them, so why should I get to see them?”

“You do deserve that.” He reached over, pulling her hand into his. “Not knowing what happened to your family is devastating. I know you love them and I can’t imagine them not loving someone like you. There’s nothing wrong with hoping for the best.”

“That was a lot of food out there,” she said, changing the subject. “It looked like enough to feed our mountain group for a month and more. And this is just the engagement. Can you imagine the wedding? Producing that amount of food when we have the dead walking everywhere outside and still having enough left for regular days in the community is a miracle in itself. It’s unreal.”

Is the Major the type to put out all they have in order to celebrate his engagement? He clearly thought highly of himself. Was he selfish as well as arrogant?

“Major Gavin spoke to me at the party,” he said almost too casually.

She glanced in his direction, her expression perplexed. “Really? Why?... When?”

Rick chuckled at her confusion. “After you went for your drink. He saw Lori and I talking, so I guess he came to stake his claim. I am the ex-husband after all.” He shrugged.  “The guy is just a power-hungry control freak and I don’t think he likes me very much, but that’s probably all there is to it though. Everything seems fine otherwise. The people like it here and it’s safer than out there.”

“And Shane called _you_ arrogant and insecure.”

“Speaking of Shane, I didn’t see him at all tonight.”

“Neither did I.” Michonne shook her head. “Then again, that man has been a giant question mark ever since I met him.”

“Things should be interesting when we join the Major and his soldiers for defense training tomorrow.” He let out a loud chortle. “I’m gonna learn how to be a Guardsman. Maybe they’ll teach me how to shoot a gun.”

“Like _you_ need training for that.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of the Major’s earlier suggestion. “Then again, who knows what you’ll learn, By the way, is that training only extended to men?”

Rick let out a loud yawn. “Something tells me that it is.”

“You’re tired.” His eyes were beginning to droop.

“And you’re in my bed,” he said with a smirk a he wiggled his eyebrow. “It’s a welcome distraction though. I won’t kick you out.”

“Well I’d hate for you to be sleep deprived because of me. I need you up and alert tomorrow Sheriff Grimes,” she said, sitting up straighter as she prepared to stand. “I’d hate for the Woodburians to think the newbies are lazy bums.”

Rick snorted. “First impressions are lasting ones.” He flung an arm over her shoulder. “But I’m not ready for you to leave yet though. I want you to keep talking to me.”

“Well this couch is extremely lumpy,” she bounced up and down, causing the springs to protest loudly underneath her. “You sure you want to sleep here? There’s enough room for two on the bed in my room. It’s great for conversation.”

“Really?” His eyes flitted to her lips. “Conversation huh?”

She licked her lips. “We can trash talk Major Gavin together. Enough material for a whole night of conversation.”

“Can we?” He grabbed her chin as he leaned in slowly bringing his lips to hers, kissing her softly.

“Uh huh.” The kiss deepened and their breathing became more desperate. Michonne soon found herself straddling his lap and silently hoped against any more unwelcome interruptions. Her hands found his hair while his caressed her lower back. “A whole lot of conversation.”

She let out a moan and he reflexively bucked his hips upward in response. His hands slipped under her shirt and slowly moved up her back, sending tingles up her spine. One of the straps of her tank top lay haphazardly against her forearm. His lips had moved down to her exposed neck and was slowly moving along the length of her shoulder, licking, kissing and biting. His mouth was hot against her skin and she felt as if she were melting.

“Maybe we should take this down the hall?” she managed to say between breaths as she pulled away from the kiss. Knowing their luck, Carl or Morgan would burst in putting an end to whatever they had going on.

His hands slid down to her ass, pulling her tightly against himself as he suddenly rose to his feet. She yelped in response and wrapped her thighs securely around his waist as he all but sprinted down the hall to her bedroom. She giggled at his eagerness.

Once they were behind the closed door of her new bedroom, he dropped her on the bed, and she locked her legs around him tighter as she drew him into her. She needed more. Her eyes locked with his and the darkness and intensity she saw there thrilled her. He couldn’t get close enough.

He leaned down, his lips attacking hers again. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue before it dipped between her parted lips and his hand slowly moved up her bare thigh. She felt lightheaded and her skin was overheated everywhere his fingers touched. He let out a deep groan and she felt his erection pressing against her thigh. His other hand had found its way under her shirt and had come to rest on her breast.

She lightly pushed against his chest and he pulled back, his brow furrowed in confusion. The uncomfortable feeling of rejection washed through him. This may not be what she wanted.

Michonne’s eyes never left his as she reached down, grabbing the hem of her tank top and slowly pulling it over her head. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sight of her breasts practically spilling from her bra.

Teasing him.

With newfound boldness, she slowly reached behind herself, unclasping the undergarment and letting it fall away from her body before tossing it to the side.

Rick appeared dazed as his eyes followed the dark upturned globes that stood firmly on her chest as she leaned back against the bed, propping herself up on her elbows, her breasts bouncing lightly in the process. His dick twitched in response to her sensual display.

She grinned at his expression as he rose from the bed and started to unbutton his shirt with quick fingers. His eyes never left hers as he made quick work of discarding the rest of his clothes. His erection strained against his boxer briefs and she felt the evidence of her own arousal between her legs.

He tilted his head in her direction. “Take the rest of it off.”

She raised a brow sliding her hands down to the waistband of her shorts. “These?” She asked innocently.

 _She’s gonna kill me_ , he thought as he slowly moved toward the bed, crawling towards her. He placed his hands over hers. “Yes.” He made quick work of removing the rest of her clothing, leaving her naked on her back, staring up at him with hooded eyes that fueled his need and desperation for her.

He moved to hover over her, propping himself up on one hand as the other slowly moved up her sides and up to her exposed breasts which had quickly become his new favorite thing. Every part of her was perfect in his eyes.

He cupped one in his hand, lightly flicking a pebbled nipple with his thumb, eliciting a moan from her. He leaned down, lightly flicking it with his tongue as his hand descended towards her entrance, a finger sliding inside. Her breath hitched and his lips covered hers briefly silencing her soft whimpers as his fingers thrust against her with more vigor. They needed to keep the noise to a minimum, but it was getting difficult for her to control the noises that escaped her.

Rick removed his hand, lining himself up against her, skin against skin and guiding himself between her parted legs. Her breathing deepened as he wrapped her thighs around his waist, pulling them closer together as he pushed further panting against her skin.

“Oh…my…G –”

“That’s…the only kind of conversation I want to hear tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.


	12. The Community

_“In every community, there is work to be done.”_ – Marianne Williamson

* * *

 

Michonne shifted in Rick’s arms, squinting as the early morning light spilled into her small bedroom. Her lower body covered him like a blanket and his arms, wrapped snugly around her waist, tightened when her movement alerted him that she was awake.

She glanced over at him and his eyes remained tightly shut. He was not ready to leave their tangled embrace just yet.

“The sun is rising,” she murmured, her fingers running through his curly hair. She desperately wanted to talk about the step they just took.

“Morgan and the kids will be up soon,” she continued, when he made no move to release her.

“Is that your way of kicking me out of your bed? That what you’re hinting at?” His hand moved down to her behind giving it a light squeeze. “I’m not ready to let go yet. I was promised a whole lotta conversation.”

She laughed softly. “Well you’ll have to or we’ll have a lot of explaining to do once our housemates are up and about.”

He playfully scoffed. “We’re grown.”

Michonne sat up and threw a leg over his waist, straddling his thighs. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe this place might actually work. It may have a shitty leader, but until this thing gets solved and things go back to normal, this is probably it. We probably just need to wait this all out until there’s a cure or something.” She wanted to be optimistic.

She could see in his eyes that he wanted to believe the same, but there was doubt there. Most likely, the Center for Disease Control no longer existed and they had no idea of the state of the government. Things didn’t look good. Everyone was now on their own in a structureless world.

Michonne pressed her lips against his against his effectively silencing whatever words she knew he was about to offer. She wanted to hold on to what little optimism she had left. They closed their eyes, enjoying the feel of their bare bodies pressed together, legs intertwined.

She could feel him hardening beneath her as their kiss deepened. She wanted to savor the moment for as long as she could. It felt good to have physical contact. She ran her fingers through the loose curls of his hair. His hand trailed down her naked back and grabbed her ass once again, kneading softly. It was becoming apparent that he had an affinity for her rear end.

“You really should go though.” She pulled away from him so they could catch their breath. “We’ll end up losing track of time.”

“You’re cruel,” he groaned, as he ground his hips up against hers, letting her know exactly what she was doing to him.

“How?” She smiled coyly, placing another soft kiss on his lips making sure to let her lips linger. She already knew he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, so she gyrated her hips suggestively. “I’m just trying to be responsible. Since when is that a bad thing?”

Rick gripped her hips, quickly flipping them over so that he was now hovering over her with a boldness she had never seen in him before. He stared down at her with fire in his eyes and covered her mouth with his, making her shiver with pleasure as his hands traveled slowly from her breasts, roughly palming them, before traveling all the way down to her hips.

“The teasing isn’t helping things. It’s borderline torture, and now I want you again.” He ground his erection against her before reaching down to probe her with his fingers, pushing in and out as her body heated with pleasure. Soft gasps escaped her lips as his ministrations made her tremble. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and pulled his fingers away to adjust himself at her entrance.

Michonne tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, his name leaving her lips almost silently as he pushed inside, her warmth enveloping him as he began moving slowly within her.

Her nails dug painfully into his back and her hips rhythmically rose to meet his. She tried to keep her cries of pleasure as quiet as she could manage as their pace quickened. His head fell into the crook of her neck, his thrusts becoming even more erratic and merciless. It wouldn’t be long until he was over the edge.

Heavy grunts erupted from his chest as their bodies connected with loud slapping sounds.

As she drew closer to release, he suddenly pulled out, leaving her empty and desperate for him to continue. She looked up at him with hooded eyes as she let out a frustrated whimper. “Turn around.”

Michonne hastily followed his direction, getting on all fours and when Rick grabbed her hips and pushed in once again, disappearing into her, she wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of her lungs. It took everything within her to fight the urge.

Her fists clenched the sheets as her cries, muffled against her pillow, grew even louder. He started to get faster and harder as he got closer to the edge. He reached down, cupping her breast with his left hand as he moved.

His other hand dropped between her legs, rubbing his thumb against her until she finally contracted around him, coming undone, her nails now digging deeply enough into his back to leave marks as her muscles locked down.

He let out a loud roar as her spasms forced him to reach his own peak. She prayed the wall separating her room from Morgan’s wasn’t very thin, because they were less than quiet.

Their movements slowed and Rick rolled them over, pulling Michonne on top of him as they caught their breath. She loved the feeling of him, bare against her body. She never wanted to move from that position. His fingers drew lazy circles on her back as she ran her hand through his hair.

“Wow,” she sighed, her eyes blinking tiredly as she placed soft kisses on his temple. “You win this round. I think I regret trying to kick you out.” She continued running her hands through his hair until her movements slowed and she drifted off to sleep.

When Michonne woke again, she was alone in her bed. She heard faint voices and the sound of movement through the apartment. Morgan and the kids must have been up.

She sat up in bed, taking in the small room she occupied. Her clothes from the night before were scattered around the room. Memories of her night and then morning tryst with Rick filled her mind when she felt the soreness between her legs as she climbed out of bed to get showered and ready for the day.

The fact that she had just been intimate with a man who wasn’t her son’s father was a beginning to sink in. She sincerely believed that she would never be able to open herself to be with anyone in that way for a long time, if ever.

That was something else she could cross off on her list of things that didn’t go according to plan after moving to King County.  Instead of living a secluded introspective small town life, she was navigating across the Georgia Landscape with virtual strangers trying to escape death by the dead.

Of course, their sleeping together wasn’t wholly surprising. The attraction had been there a while. Merle and Daryl caught them alone in the woods that night for a reason. She wasn’t sure how long the attraction had been there, it certainly wasn’t at their first meeting, and regardless of when it emerged, it was real and palpable. She believed it was likely due to his caring nature and his natural ability to lead and draw others to him.

Nevertheless, being with him felt exhilarating and despairing at the same time. Exhilarating because, she felt lighthearted and hopeful in his presence. Despairing because she didn’t deserve to feel those things. She wanted to feel alright, feel optimistic, but she couldn’t genuinely contain those feelings when she knew that destruction had been following her wherever she went and it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head again.

She took deep, calming breaths as she dried her body off to prepare to get dressed. She had to focus on holding on to herself.

When she emerged from her bedroom, Carl and Duane were sitting on the cramped couch enjoying a simple breakfast while Rick and Morgan were deep in conversation. She shook away the negative thoughts that filled her mind.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’” Rick answered, his eyes meeting hers with such intensity that it sent involuntary shivers of pleasure up her spine.

“Morning Michonne.” Morgan took a sip from his mug. “Slept well?”

“Yeah. I slept very well.” Her skin felt extra hot. She looked away from them as if they would see all of her nighttime activities etched on her face.

Her toes curling.

Her hips rising and falling.

Her muscles tensing.

“It was nice having a comfortable bed for a change. It sure beats a car seat or a sleeping bag.” She ruffled Carl’s hair as she passed him and Duane and he grinned up at her.

“I made breakfast,” Morgan said, gesturing to the kitchen with his thumb. “You can help yourself when you’re ready.”

Michonne nodded and she could still feel Rick’s eyes on her. “What are you up to today, Rick?” she asked, ignoring the images her mind conjured of his tensed naked body as he drove into her. It proved to be a challenging task since she could still feel his hands on her body and his eyes were drinking her in as if he wanted to devour her.

“Well, we have to meet with Major Gavin today to discuss training and other things.”

“You too Morgan?”

The man nodded. “I’ve got to protect my boy.” She knew he still felt guilty about what happened with Jenny. He felt terrible for not being able to prevent it.

“I think we’ll all need training eventually if we really want to be prepared in all of this.” Rick crossed his arms making his discomfort apparent. “I’ll need to talk to major Gavin about that. You’re good with your sword, but some gun training wouldn’t hurt.”

Major Gavin had some very archaic views when it came to Woodbury and its protection. He was of the mindset that only the men could be the protectors while the women should busy themselves with other endeavors. Some things were just too difficult for those he viewed as delicate irrational beings.

 “I can always get that training from you. You were our town’s sheriff, after all. I could brush up on my lack of gun skills.”

“I’d be more than happy to train you. You’ll be a pro at handling guns when I’m finished with you and I’m sure we’ll get plenty of opportunities for practice while we’re here.”

Everything coming out of his mouth sounded like innuendo. While Morgan appeared to be oblivious, it felt like they were having a very explicit conversation out in the open with him. He was talking about “guns”, but she heard something else entirely and she saw that something in his eyes too.

“Well I’ll just go…get that breakfast, then,” she said, looking for an escape before she gave herself away in front of Morgan. She shot Rick a quick coquettish smile, before shuffling away. “Thanks for the offer Rick!”

**~TNB~**

Much like the previous day, the streets were mostly empty Michonne explored their new community. A few people stood outside buildings and chatted while others stoically walked along sidewalks. For some reason, she found it very unsettling, but she managed to shrug off her inhibitions.

As she walked further, she spotted Carol Peletier standing near the Woodbury entrance in an almost daze-like state. “Hey Carol!”

The woman jumped slightly at the sound of her name breaking her out of her daydream. “Oh, hi Michonne.”

“Exploring?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Sophia’s off playing with the kids at the Greene’s so I figured I would get out and take a walk to clear my head a little.”

“Same here.”

“It’s a good thing we found this place,” Carol said, staring at the gate with pensive eyes. “I think we’re safer in here than out there in the woods. It’s safer for the kids. Especially after what happened with Jenny.”

The faint snarling sound of the dead seeped through the makeshift barrier that separated Woodbury from the decaying world. “My husband turned into one of them you know,” Carol said suddenly.

Michonne gave her a sympathetic look as questions filled her head. She refrained from asking and decided to give the woman space to decide what she wanted to share and when she would share it. “I’m sorry.”

“He died…and then he came back,” she continued. “Like how Jenny came back.”

“Was he bitten? At work or…”

She slowly shook her head, staring blankly into the distance. “He died because I killed him.” Her voice was devoid of any emotion and she spoke as if they were discussing bad weather. “I don’t remember any bites on him.”

Michonne kept her expression even. “Maybe you didn’t see the bite?”

“Maybe,” she said wistfully. She let out a humorless chuckle. “He deserved it though. My husband wasn’t a good man, Michonne. If evil had a face, it would be his.”

Michonne opened her mouth to say something, but shut it quickly after the realization that she had no idea what to say. She didn’t know that man nor what went on in their relationship, however from Carol’s disposition, she definitely had an idea of what was wrong. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.

“I don’t want any sympathy. That’s not why I told you.” Carol cleared her throat. She folded her hands in front of her, shifting uncomfortably. “Let’s go check on the kids. Carl will be happy to see you.”

“Oh he’s at the Greene’s too?”

“Lori came over with him before I left. It’s so surreal seeing her here,” she mused. “I never thought I’d ever lay eyes on her again. Especially with her and Rick being divorced.”

“You’ve been Rick’s neighbor for a long time?”

“Yeah.” She stared down at her feet as they walked. “I’ve been there ever since before they moved in. They got married young and they moved in after Rick left the academy. Young love, you know?”

Michonne hummed in response, ruminating on Carol’s words. She knew very little about Rick’s high school sweetheart outside of a few comments made by Shane. It was different, hearing their relationship mentioned so casually.

The Greene apartment was about twice the size of the place where she, Rick, Morgan and the kids were staying. When they arrived, Carl, Duane and Sophia were playing a board game with a slightly older girl and another child around their age. Surprisingly, Andrea was there as well.

Lori was nowhere in sight.

“I’m Michonne,” she said, shaking hands with the gray-haired man who introduced himself as Hershel Greene. “I think I met your daughter, Maggie, last night at the gathering.”

“Oh yes. We would have been there too, unfortunately Annette came down with something.”

Michonne quickly glanced at his wife who looked perfectly fine at the moment. She figured it must have been a passing illness. “It’s so nice to meet you,” said Annette. “At least Gavin is still letting people in.”

Hershel chuckled nervously and cut his eyes to his irritated wife. “So where are you from Michonne?”

She didn’t feel like getting too deep into her unconventional upbringing. “I’ve lived in Atlanta for a few years, but I had recently moved to King County when this all broke out. I lived next door to Carl and his Dad and Carol lived across the street from us so we all kind of ended up together.”

“Well it’s good that you all were able to get out together. Company is very important these days. Everybody needs support and need to help each other out. We’re lucky Otis was around so we could get out when we did. The farm was a nice secluded place, but those military helicopters just led the dead right to us.”

“Maggie said you were a farmer,” she said, recalling her conversation with the young woman.

“I was,” he said. “I came from a farming family. I’m also a veterinarian.”

“That’s great. And you want to start a community garden, right? I think that’s a really good idea. With the number of people here, sustainability is important. Lots of mouths to feed.”

“It sure would help the families here struggle less,” he said. “There are nearby superstores, but not everyone has someone that can leave Woodbury to secure a share of supplies for them. I only have daughters and Otis and he has his own wife to consider. And it’s even more difficult with…well the food stock runs low sometimes.”

A familiar feeling of discomfort filled Michonne at the mention of Major Gavin’s rules. She wanted to ask more, but she could sense the gray haired man becoming guarded as if he said too much. She made a mental note to bring up these observations to Rick later. They continued chatting casually for a while when Annette said something that gave Michonne pause and her feelings of anxiety returned. It seemed Woodbury was not as put together as Major Gavin and his comrades made it out to be.

 “They’re robbing us blind in this place. Gavin and the rest,” Annette huffed crossing her arms. “That’s the price of _protection_ I guess. I just don’t understand why we need all these pointless dirt races and these pit fights with the dead. I just hope Gene Gavin doesn’t plan on having another one of those loud dirt races again. All it does is attract the dead. You can hear them outside just waiting to get to us. Plus, we’re running so low on food and supplies, but we just _had_ to fork over after that engagement feast. That party could have waited until we figured out our food situation.”

 “Annette.” Hershel’s tone was tender, but it was clear that this was a sore subject area. He gave Michonne an apologetic look clearly not liking what his wife was saying. It completely explained her sickness that kept her from the gathering, which is funny since she now babysits for one of the people who was hosting it.

“ _Dirt_ races?”

“There’s a track nearby. They call it public entertainment,” Annette continued, ignoring her husband. “The only people it entertains are those pinheads.”

“Sometimes the leadership leaves a lot to be desired,” Hershel explained diplomatically. “What they’re doing out there isn’t right. But in the end, I believe everything will work out as time goes on. This is our safest bet until this all ends.”

“You still believe that.” Annette shook her head sadly. “I don’t see an end to this at all.”

Hershel cut his eye to the children, who seemed oblivious to the tense conversation occurring across the room. “Let’s not dwell on the negative. We just need to have faith and we will get a way out of this. I’ve been praying for our safety.”

“Sometimes hope is all you need,” Carol said wistfully as she stared across the room at her daughter, laughing happily at the funny faces Carl was pulling. “I just hope there is an end to all of this and whoever can cure it can cure it soon.”

“They said the CDC is gone, but here are other places. The World Health Organization is probably working at whatever this is,” Michonne said. “Before we left home they were talking about it on the news.”

“I bet the French will be the ones to cure it.” Andrea reached for her mug of tea, taking a sip as she rejoined the adult table. “They’ll burst through those gates any day now saying ‘ _we ave solved eet’_.”

The table erupted in laughter at Andrea’s bad joke and the mood became lighter. They shared stories about life before the apocalypse and their hope for a dead-free future.

**~TNB~**

While Michonne was getting to know the Greene’s, Rick was in an open field a few miles outside of Woodbury, still surprised to see Shane at Major Gavin’s weapon training. When he Daryl, Morales and Morgan arrived to ride over to where they would be practicing Shane was already waiting with three other men who were interested in training to join the guardsmen.

Shane gave Rick a nod of acknowledgement as he approached, giving Rick hope that he had finally put whatever was bothering him behind him. Perhaps being in Woodbury would be a fresh start and a welcome change from their tense stay on the mountain.

Five men in military fatigues were standing at the center of the field, when the truck that was carrying Rick, Daryl, Morgan and other potential trainees arrived. Their driver, who introduced himself as Detroit, explained that the training was more like a try-out and those who were unable to keep up will have to return to the van to wait to be returned home to Woodbury. They could potentially help protect Woodbury, however they wouldn’t be official Guardsmen.

It sounded like the plot of an episode of a bad survivalist reality show.

“I hope you’re all ready to put in some serious work,” Major Gavin boomed as he exited his military truck, with Phillip Blake following closely behind. “Now, we can’t offer you any fancy uniforms yet, so if that’s all you’re here for, you can leave. Also, you probably won’t all make it through training. Only the best gets to defend Woodbury on the front lines and all the perks that come with doing that.”

“That’s right,” the National Guardsman named Barker echoed. “We can’t take all of you. You won’t all be cut out for this type of stuff. We’ll have a series of trials and we’re going to end up cutting most of you from joining. We’ll still teach you how to shoot though.”

“It’s weapons training,” Shane threw his hands up. “Why the fuck are you treating this like we’re trying out for a dance troupe? You said it yourself, that this isn’t military training. Now it _is_?  We just need people to know how to defend their fucking lives from dead people! Dead people that are killing the living. Any idiot can learn to shoot a gun!”

The field grew deathly silent.

Major Gavin turned his cold blue eyes to Shane. He strode slowly and deliberately towards the man, stopping a few inches from his face. His voice was low and icy when he finally spoke. “Just because you want to fuck my wife-to-be, doesn’t mean you get to throw stupid temper tantrums at me. Watch yourself Walsh and learn your place.”

Rick’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as the vulgar and malicious word’s escaped the Major’s lips.

“That’s right,” he grinned nefariously. “She told be all about you.” He looked at Shane as if he was dirt on his shoes. “A pathetic stalker!”

As Shane quickly met Rick’s eyes, realization dawned on him. How did he not see it before? The sly comments. The accusations of selfishness. It was all about Lori. This didn’t explain everything about Shane’s over-the top behavior though. If he really was pining for Lori, why would he care if Rick found someone else? That should be what he wanted. Shouldn’t it?

Major Gavin spoke louder now. He wanted everyone to listen to what he was about to say. “I don’t want the likes of you having a gun in my community at all. You’ll be a danger to my Woodburians if you can’t be respectful or follow simple directions.” He strolled away from Rick and Shane. “You can ride back to camp with Manning, Mr. Walsh. I don’t even want you waiting in the van. You won’t be needed here anymore. You’re just not what we’re looking for.”

Shanne growled, as his right hand formed a fist in full preparation to sock the Major in the face. Before he could lift his arm, the sound of guns cocking filled the air giving him pause. Major Gavin’s men all had their guns drawn. “Fine,” Shane scoffed. “That’s something we both actually agree about. I don’t even wanna to be a part of this shit show. This is fucking ridiculous. It’s nothing more than an ego trip and everybody knows it even though they don’t admit it out loud.” He threw his hands up once again as he stalked towards Manning’s truck.

“Now, where were we.” The Major stroked his chin, his eyes landing on Rick. “As you all may know, I am a trained survival instructor and I used to be with the 221st Military Intelligence Battalion and Camp Ellenwood. There is _nobody_ better qualified to train you than me. Believe me, I’m the best this world has.”

 _Well it’s not like the world has much left,_ Rick thought to himself. The man was completely up his own ass and he seemed to be enjoying his powerful new position way too much. Rick clenched his jaw, trying to remain impassive. It was clear that Major Gavin wanted to taunt him and giving into his rage would do no good in their current position.

Major Gavin looked to his comrades who all nodded in agreement with his words, letting out hums of approval. The major stuck his chin out looking quite pleased with himself. “Now, I just need everybody to drop and give me two-hundred.”

“Two hundred…push-ups?” A bespectacled man asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes, you scrawny fuck.” His large form towered over the man. “What’s the matter? That too much for you Professor Farnsworth? If you can’t handle that how are you going to walk amongst my men? How are you going to protect Woodbury? How can you be a Guardsman? Families need to eat. The women, children, and weak men need protection. I can’t give them that if I have cowards in my ranks!”

Rick bit down on his tongue to fight the urge to tell Major Gavin just where he could shove his protection. He never wanted to hit someone more than in that moment. However, he wanted to find out more and test the waters and he couldn’t do that if he was sent back to Woodbury weaponless.

Something told him that confronting the Major or walking away from Woodbury wasn’t an option afforded to its citizens. The man clearly didn’t take opposition lightly.

They needed to play things safe for now. From the looks on Morgan’s and Daryl’s face they were also extremely bothered by the man. He exchanged a look with the two men trying to convey that they should keep their cool for the time being. Especially hot-headed Daryl, who seemed to have poor impulse control from what Rick has seen.

As long as this man was in power and they were weaponless, he would never be fully settled in Woodbury. It also didn’t help that his ex-wife, the mother of his son, was engaged to this man.

“I…I just thought we would be getting trained to use weapons. So we could protect ourselves from the dead if they come.”

“Like I would give the likes of you a weapon,” he spat. “I haven’t seen you do anything to deserve it. To earn that privilege.” He stepped away from the man. “Only competent people get weapons. People like us.” He pointed to the four remaining men. “We’re the ones who get to protect people. We’re the _real_ heroes of this new world. There’s nobody better.”

“I just –“

Major Gavin silenced the man as he pointed his meaty finger in the direction of the trucks, indicating that the man should step out of the lineup. The man pushed his glasses up with his index finger, before scurrying to where the Major wanted him.

“As for the rest of you.” He turned his attention to Rick and the other men. “I said to drop and give me two hundred. Any more objections?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick hasn’t been hardened by the world yet. We’ll see how things go with Major Gavin.  
> Review and let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Major

_"Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry."_

— Winston Churchill

* * *

"What happened?" Michonne asked as Rick stormed into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. "How was it?"

His nostrils flared as he shook his head, turning away from her to walk towards the living room. "It was..." He tugged at his hair, frustration clear on his face. "I don't even know what to think. That was the most pointless thing I've ever done. It's ridiculous."

"I take it you didn't learn much about defending yourself against the dead?"

"We need some real leadership around here," he sighed. "This is a great little community, but I can see things easily falling apart. There's no structure and all that man cares about is tormenting people and being in power. He even sent Shane back. Something about only a select few being allowed to defend Woodbury."

She nodded slowly, stepping toward him, until she stood directly in front of him. "We've made it this far. This is our new home for the time being and if it needs more structure, it's up to us and everyone else here to bring it on. We can't be the only ones to see that something is wrong here."

It certainly would need more structure. After her talk with the Greene's she was left feeling even more uneasy about Woodbury and its leader and she was even contemplating how she could go about getting her katana back. It made her uneasy to be without any type of protection when they were surrounded by so much uncertainty.

Rick sighed, nodding in agreement as he looked around the empty apartment. "Speaking of everyone, where is everybody? Carl around?"

"Hershel Greene's place. Lori is over there too," she said, following his gaze. "Where's Daryl and Morgan?"

"I..I don't know. I was so angry, I didn't even stop once we got back. I just came straight here. Have you seen Shane by chance?"

"No." Her brow furrowed. "I doubt he'd come here or to Hershel's. Should we be worried?"

"Maybe not." He collapsed on the couch, pulling her with him. She ended up with her body partially on his. He hoisted her thigh across his waist, drawing slow circles against her thigh as he leaned back against the couch. Memories of their night together flooded her mind at the close contact and their intimate position.

They remained that way, enjoying each other's silent company in their own little cocoon for several minutes. Before she knew it, Michonne found herself straddling Rick's lap as their lips moved together in a forceful passionate kiss. His hands encircled her and he pulled her tightly against his body before slipping up her shirt, pulling the fabric up with them. She broke the kiss to lift her hands over her head so he could pull the shirt completely off. It went flying across the room and her bra followed after.

He ran his hands up her naked torso, stopping at her breasts, tracing them with the tip of his fingers. "Absolutely perfect," he moaned, as he roughly cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs against her nipples. He started kissing her neck and gave her nipples a pinch sending a jolt of pleasure through her. His lips ghosted against her neck, moving lower past her collarbone towards her breasts where they were on the attack. Breathy moans and gasps escaped her parted lips in response.

Through the sensual haze, she managed to consider the fact that she was naked from the waist up straddling a fully clothed Rick in the middle of the living room and they were sharing the small apartment with three other people. This could easily turn into a very awkward and inappropriate situation. "Rick," she gasped as his fingers found their way to the waistband of her pants. "The door. Someone might –"

"The front door is locked and…" He popped open the button on her pants. "They only gave us one key. And it's in my pocket. These doors weren't meant to be kept locked." He slipped her zipper down and soon she was panting in pleasure as his hand made its way inside her panties stroking gently against her.

Her mouth fell open in a gasp and she heard more than saw him unbuckle his pants. "Let's just…just forget for a little while," he grunted, lightly biting down on the skin just above her left breast as his hand kneaded the other. She moaned, hugging his head to her chest and she shut her eyes, blocking out the world around her.

He continued his assault on her breasts before they ultimately moved their activities to her bedroom where they remained in their own little cocoon within their new post-apocalyptic world. Nothing else existed other than the two of them within the four walls of her room. For a moment, they could forget about the walking dead, the tyrannical leader, and the uncertainty that filled their lives. The only things they were conscious of was their bodies moving in unity with a rawness that expressed all that had yet to be verbalized between them.

He wrapped around her waist as she moved above him, his hips vigorously plunging upwards, never slowing or easing the forceful blows of his thrusts, until she was tipping over the edge with him following after with a deafening growl.

She collapsed against his chest, feeling dizzy and satiated as she panted heavily spasms still racking through her body like aftershocks. Once she regained her capacity to move she rolled off of him, whimpering as he slipped from her body. They lay side-by-side, their breathing the only sound in the room.

"We were right about this place though," she said once she finally caught her breath. "It's all bullshit. The major became the leader because nobody else was in the right mind frame for it. Now all he does is abuse his power and steal from the people here."

He turned his head towards her, taking in her intensely focused profile. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Come on," she lightly patted his chest, trying to get him to move so they could clean up and get dressed to find the others. "I'll introduce you to Hershel and the rest of the Greene family."

* * *

 

"So, _nobody_ is keeping track of the food?"

"Not according to Anette," Michonne answered as they walked hand in hand to the Greene apartment. "People were really worried after the gathering because a large chunk of the resources were used and nobody has any idea how much rationing should be done or is being done to prevent a food shortage. Beside that the Major and his men get most of the –"

A loud roar that sounded like revving engines somewhere in the distance, cut off her words. "What the hell is that?" Rick looked around trying to pinpoint the direction the noise was coming from.

Michonne shook her head, her lips curling in disdain. "I'm thinking that might be the dirt races Annette was talking about earlier today. Apparently, the Major and his men have some _interesting_ ways of entertaining themselves."

Rick was absolutely dumbfounded. "Dirt races? Seriously?" He couldn't fathom why someone would even think of that as a way to entertain themselves in their new world.

"From what I've heard, they've done it at least twice before," she sighed, letting go of his hand to cross her arms across her chest. "It's too bad that defense class didn't work, because we're going to need it if they keep this up. All that noise will only attract trouble from the dead walkers."

"There has to be a better way." He shook his head in frustration, glaring at the front gate as if it were the Major himself. "The leadership around here needs to change. How are people okay with this? The walls aren't even secure and they're having dirt races that will only attract more of those things?"

"Well the Major seems really set in his ways so I highly doubt he needs people to be _okay_ with it."

"He doesn't get to be set in anything when he's putting all of our lives in danger," he replied, his jaw clenched in anger. "I doubt the people around here are okay with this."

Her mind drifted to his ex-wife and she wondered how opinionated the woman might be about the races. Of all the Woodburians she had spoken to since arriving at Woodbury, the woman displayed the least amount of distrust or trepidation when it came to the subject of Major Gavin. Surely, she must have been privy to what her soon to be husband was up to in his spare time.

As they walked, she noticed people emerging from the various nearby houses little by little. Their displeasure was clear on their faces. "Somebody needs to do something," a middle-aged raven-haired woman said loudly, crossing her arms across her chest.

People started murmuring in agreement as a small crowd formed facing the gate as the cacophony of revving engines filled their small community. If it wasn't so loud, Michonne was sure they would have been able to hear the distinct hissing and snarling of the walkers as they drew nearer to the community.

"That's what everybody always says." The dark-skinned man Rick recognized as Detroit, the driver, stepped forward facing the crowd. "Always waiting for somebody else to solve the problem. For somebody else to _do something_. Are you fucking kidding me? You say all this now, but what will you do once they come back?" He didn't wait for a response to his rhetorical question. "Nothing! That's what."

"We can't keep living in fear like this," the woman said, her voice wavering. "Remember what happened last time? More of those things came and Nick ended up dead. Then they have the nerve to blame it on lack of proper training but don't want some of us to learn to defend ourselves. We can't keep relying on these men to protect us. They may be military, but they are a danger to us all."

"Exactly. First, they took all the food and weapons and now they're luring biters and leaving us defenseless," someone else continued. "I think the power is going to his head. He came into this camp with his men, and we just stood aside and let him take all the power he wanted just because he was a man in uniform. This charade has to stop. He's not fit to be a leader."

Detroit threw his hands up in a 'what the hell can we do' type of gesture. "We'll just have to call a town meeting when Gavin and his men get back."

"Like he'd listen to any of us," the woman scoffed.

"There you go again. Complaining, but turning down all ideas of a solution," Detroit rebutted. "What the hell do you people want? Do you want change or not?"

Michonne's hand slid down Rick's arm, stopping to clutch his hand in hers. She kept a wary eye on the gathered group. She could easily see things going south upon the Major's return. If he was the type of man she pegged him to be, he wouldn't take this semi-rebellion sitting down. "We should go find Carl and the others," she said in a low voice.

As they turned to head in the opposite direction, she locked eyes with an anxious Lori, who was slowly approaching the crowd who grew silent upon observing her presence. Her eyes flitted fretfully between the gathered crowd and the gate and she drew in a breath. The last time there were this many people in the center square, they were celebrating her engagement and the arrival of her family.

"We can have a rational discussion about this," she finally managed to say. "We'll have the town meeting and everyone can voice their concerns to Gene. He's an understanding man and I'm sure we can come to an agreement about this. These races are scary and I'm sure you're all worried about your families as am I."

"Sure Lori," the outspoken woman said, punctuating her name in a mocking tone. There was no mistaking the disdain in her voice and body language. She was past genuine pleasantries. "We'll just wait here for our _understanding_ leader to return. I don't know what we'd do without you being here to always show us the way. How would we have known what to do otherwise?"

Detroit glanced between the women, obviously contemplating a way to reduce the hostile tension. "So, a meeting it is then."

"Then what?" Rick finally spoke up, in his gravelly drawl giving Michonne's hand a light squeeze. "What happens then? What happens when he doesn't want to stop the races and our understanding is that they'll continue whether we like it or not? Can we all agree with that because people don't seem too confident that he'll agree."

The Woodburian's eyes were on him now, but there was no immediate response, not even from the candid and outspoken woman.

"Probably not," he continued. "But I'm sure you'd all go along with because…fear? Is that it? He's a trained soldier and nobody wants to assume responsibility. If you want to survive, you'll have to work for it. Detroit is right."

Lori rolled her eyes, slowly shaking her head. "Rick it's not like that," she said exasperatedly. "He's kept us safe. We should all be appreciative of that."

"And defenseless."

"We have a fucking _army_ to defend us." Her voice wavered as it grew slightly louder. "It doesn't get any safer than that. Trust me, you won't find anywhere else around here that is safer than this. You go out there and you'll be all on your own with the dead. So, we'll just have to stay here for the safety of ourselves, the children and this community until this thing is over and we are saved."

"And where is your so-called army now?"

Michonne understood men like Gene Gavin. She spent quite some time during her college years reading about leaders like him and recognized him for what he was almost immediately. He was the type of leader who would emerge in a war zone or in areas with great disorder and at first, his leadership would make sense because of his experience with combat or being a soldier but then the people who he vowed to lead would find their rights and free liberties slowly disappearing and he would use his police or military power to force them into submission.

Men like him, thrived in chaotic and confusing worlds where people have no other option but to accept military dictators as their leader. This often ended poorly for everyone involved.

"People need more than an army to stand in front of them sometimes," Michonne offered. "I think self-defense and readily accessible weapons will be good for everyone. The walkers can be stealthy and I'm sure people don't want to constantly rely on a handful of people to keep them safe."

Lori's eyes fell on Michonne as if she had noticed her presence for the first time. Michonne didn't miss the way her eyes quickly flitted down to her and Rick's joined hands before she responded. "I guess that's something else we'll have to discuss as a town once Gene gets back."

"I guess so," she said evenly.

"We should go find Carl," Rick effectively changed the subject with a heavy sigh. He would feel much more comfortable if his son was near him, where he could be protected if things take a turn for the worst.

"He's with the Greene's." Lori kept her eyes focused in the other direction. "I just left them over there. I was headed back to my apartment for something until I saw this impromptu meeting in the center of our town."

Lori glanced back toward the crowd that was now dissipating around the community. Some people gathered in doorways, others on front porches, while some returned to their homes. Detroit and the outspoken woman were in a heated conversation nearby. "Well if you'll excuse me, I really do have something that I need to quickly take care of. I'll see you later."

They watched silently as she stepped away, walking briskly in the direction she was originally headed in.

Carl practically dashed into his father's arms when they entered the Greene's apartment. "I missed you too, son," he chuckled. "What have you been up to?"

Carl shrugged. "Playing games. Then Mom and Anette made lunch so I ate. There really isn't much to do here. It's better than being in the woods, though."

Rick ruffled the boy's hair looking up to find a couple watching their interaction with kind eyes. "You must be Rick," the man said. He briefly met Michonne's eyes over Rick's shoulder. "We've heard so much about you today. I'm Hershel Greene and this is my wife Anette. My daughter's and my son are somewhere around and I'm sure you'll meet them soon enough."

"Nice to meet you both," he said stepping forward with his hand extended.

Anette shook his hand. "It sounds like there's a commotion out there."

"It seems you're not alone in your worries about the races," Michonne informed her "The Major and his men seem to be having another one and people aren't too happy about that."

"Well of course they're not," Anette said, seating herself back into her chair. "I thought I heard those dreadful engines. Do they want to finally do something about that man? Someone died the last time you know. That's why I barely leave this house. I won't chance it if my life has to depend on that man's mood."

"It seems like they want to do something. I don't think anybody wants a repeat of whatever happened last time." Michonne recounted the events that occurred on their walk over and Anette and Hershel listened with great interest. There was hope in the woman's eyes. Perhaps there would be a change in Woodbury.

Lori never did return to the Greene apartment and after some time Rick, Michonne and Carl, who were now joined by Morgan and Duane, decided to make the short trek home. The noises from the race had dissipated, but the crowd had grown in size and so did their angry murmurs.

"You weren't kidding," half of the older couple said as they peered out the front door and around their new friends to look down the street at the group that had gathered at the front center of the town, facing the makeshift gate that separated them from the terrifying world outside. "That looks like more than half of the town. I'm impressed."

Hershel gave his wife a quick kiss on her forehead, stepping around her to exit the house. "Stay here, I'll walk with them."

They slowly made the way toward where more than half of Woodbury was congregated. Michonne caught a few whispers of leaving and finding a camp somewhere else. There had been whispers of other settlements like Woodbury, where people were gathered against the dead.

Silence fell through the crowd as the sound of car engines approached the front gates, alerting them of their self-appointed leader's return. There was palpable anticipation in the air as the gate swung open and the line of cars entered. Michonne found herself holding her breath as the first car pulled to a stop and the door slowly creaked open.

Gene Gavin's heavy boot emerged from the vehicle colliding heavily with the ground as he hoisted his burly body out. He wore a knowing smirk and his icy blue eyes fell on the group of Woodburians who had gathered in the center of the town to display their displeasure in his leadership. "Well, well, well. Is there a party, we didn't know about?"

At first there was no response, the silence was a palpable, but then one courageous soul decided to speak up. "We could ask you the same thing," a sandy-haired man spat, the acid clear in their voice. "I thought we decided the races were too dangerous."

Gene Gavin slowly ambled towards the man until he stood towing over him with a gleam in his eye. "What was that? We?" He chuckled darkly, turning to watch the reactions of his men who let out a few chuckles themselves. "Since when is Jason here a decision maker around here? Shouldn't you be hiding behind your wife like the pathetic scum you are?"

"Maybe we can talk about this." Michonne's eyes snapped to Rick's surprised at the evenness of his voice. "We can all come to an agreement. This is about everyone's safety and wellbeing."

"And who are you? The spokesperson?" he spat in a booming voice. His eyes took on a slightly crazed gleam. "Is this what goes on when I'm not around? You all sit around plotting behind my back with a man who just got here two days ago? After I kept your miserable asses alive?"

"Look Gene, we can have a calm, rational conversation about this," Detroit said stepping up beside Rick.

"Calm and rational," The Major repeated slowly, taking a step back from the two men. "As if I'm an irrational man. Okay."

Throughout his tirade Michonne kept her eyes on the armed men behind him. She had a feeling things could easily go south if they weren't careful. She caught sight of Phillip Blake standing near the men, and from the look on his face, he may have been thinking the same.

"I think it's time you people learned your place." His voice remained calm and unwavering. "After all I've done for you, you dare come to me and tell me how to run this place. Who kept you safe? Who saved you from the outside world? Rick Grimes?" He looked through the crowd, making sure to stare down each of the Woodburians. He knew he had lost their trust and could probably only think of one way to hold on to his power.

Fear.

"I kept you safe. I saved all your lives. You want to have a meeting? Well here I am so let's meet. You have a problem with my men enjoying themselves after they helped save you? After they work tirelessly to keep you alive they don't get to have any fun or escape?"

"We just don't want anybody else to die. Think of what happened to Nick1"

The Major's voice took on a threatening tone. "And nobody else has to die. Nick was a weak fool. That's why he died, not because of anything me or my men did. Why don't you all go back into your houses and cower in your corners. Let me do what I am here to do. I don't need survival tips from people who don't know the first thing about survival. I served my country with pride and you don't understand the things I understand and the things I know. So, you should all keep your fucking mouths shut and stay in your damn lane!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Michonne saw Carl cower back, burying his face into his father's side.

Rick clenched his jaw, staring back at the man with fury in his eyes. Faintly in the distance they could hear the snarling sounds of the dead. They all knew the gates would soon be surrounded and who knew how long it would be until things were clear again.

Phillip cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Gene, maybe we should –"

"Shut the fuck up," The Major spat without even turning to look at the man in question. "I think it's time these people learned a lesson." He turned back to his men. "They think they know more about survival than I do. You scared of the scary dead eaters? Let's see how well you fare on your own. Open the gate!"

"No." Rick had to pry Carl away from his side, pushing him towards Michonne as he approached the retreating man. "Think of what you're about to do. There are children here."

Michonne wasn't sure if it was because of the fear of the imminent danger of the gates being open, but the snarling seemed to be getting louder.

The Major cackled, opening the door of the Humvee as two of his men approached the front gate. "You weaklings better get ready."

"Forget about opening the gate Gene," Detroit yelled. "We'll just leave. If this is how you want things that's fine. Run it how you want, but let us leave."

"Leave?" He said the word as if it were foreign to him. "Well if that's what you want, then the gate needs to be open."

Michonne locked eyes with Morgan who stood next to her, holding on to Duane for dear life. "The armory," she said in a barely audible whisper. They wouldn't be able to fight without weapons. "We'll make a run for it."

The gate slowly eased open and the crowd erupted in chaos. The people started running for cover, not wanting to wait for when the dead inevitably wandered in in search of human flesh. "The armory Rick!" Michonne grabbed Carl's hand following Morgan's lead toward the armory with Hershel and hopefully Rick right behind them.

As they neared The Major's residence, which also doubled as the weapon's storage facility, a loud blood curling scream erupted in the distance. When Michonne spun around, the first thing she noticed was that Rick hadn't been following.

What she saw next, was Major Gavin positioned behind Detroit who was clutching his bloody abdomen before he doubled over and slumped into a lifeless heap. Before she could fully comprehend the scene behind her, a loud bang rang through the air and The Major's ominous grin morphed into a wide-eyed grimace.


	14. The Murder of Gene Gavin

_“Once you start integrating yourself into the world, you realize that people are nasty, mean creatures. They're worse than zombies. People try to crush your soul and destroy your happiness, but zombies just want to have a little nibble of your brain.”_

― J. Cornell Michel, Jordan's Brains: A Zombie Evolution

* * *

 

Fire and chaos.

The former music store owner crept quietly through the town in ruins with his weapon in hand and prepared for the worst. He slipped into a dark, narrow alleyway between two buildings as his eyes darted around at town inhabitants fleeing for their lives as the dead invaded their home.

He licked his dry lips as he watched the flames engulfing the building he began to call home when the world went to hell. Determination filled his face as he checked his gun for bullets before hiding it in the waistband of his pants.

He was now a man on a mission.

Life was finally getting somewhat easier in this new world and he was not about to let one man change his fate. He would be the author of his own life story and at this point in his story his only goal now was to survive and thrive. He needed to get into the armory if there was going to be any hope of him getting out alive with what he wanted. He prayed that his family was safe in all the chaos.

He sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to be as brave as his brother was, before pulling out a dagger and dashing through the crowd of walkers, using his weapon to ward off any that ventured too close. He recognized some of the faces as community members who were alive a few short hours ago.

_This isn’t how it ends._

“Help,” he yelled pathetically as he neared the building, hoping they would take pity on him. “They’re everywhere.”

He heard the barricades move and the entrance to the armory, which also served as the residence of Gene Gavin, and he felt relief wash over him. He recognized the dark skinned dreadlocked woman with the bright eyes who stood in the doorway beckoning for him to come quickly before the undead followed him into their place of refuge.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly as he slipped past her and into the building. She had Daryl, the man he had not so kindly referred to as the greasy-haired hillbilly in his head on numerous occasions, with her. “I thought I was a goner.”

Daryl ignored him and she simply gave him a weary nod, glancing behind her at the door that led to the weapons room. From the low voices seeping into the hallway, he could tell that was where all those who made it in was convened.

“Crazy, what happened out there, huh?”

She barely acknowledged his attempt at small talk, simply moving her head slightly as she strolled away from him, her impressive sword over her shoulder and a gun in hand. He followed slowly after her keeping his footsteps light. He could feel the hunter and his crossbow behind him.

When he entered, amount of people in the weapons room surprised him. Many of them, to no surprise, were part of the last new coming group. The ones whose presence ultimately led to Woodbury’s apparent demise. They all looked up when at their entrance.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the man he was looking for.

Check.

“There are still others out there. Hell, my wife and two of my kids are still out there,” Hershel Green said agitatedly.

“I’m sure they’re inside and safe Daddy,” his older daughter, Maggie said, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“We need to do something though,” the man named Morgan said with a sigh. “We can’t stay in here forever and something tells me they won’t be leaving too soon.”

Rick Grimes, their audacious leader, finally spoke up, stepping away from the shelf he was leaning against. “We need to get to the cars. The place is overrun and there’s no salvaging that gate. Our only hope is getting out of here.”

“What about my family? The rest of your group?”

“We’ll get them. I promise you.”

“I have an idea.” The whole room turned to look at him.

Hershel regarded him with impatience. “Well?”

He licked his lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he spoke up. “We’re going to need some of those walking corpses from outside.”

“Why?” the sword wielding woman asked.

“If we’re going to bypass them, we have to become like them,” he explained.

“How the hell is being a walking corpse going to help us?” Daryl questioned angrily.

“Wait,” the woman, whose name he finally remembered was Michonne – such and odd name – stopped the hunter from going off on a pointless tirade. “I’m thinking, at least I hope, he means something more along the lines of camouflage.”

“Yes,” he said with a snap of his fingers. He was beginning to like this woman. “They’re driven purely by their senses, so if they can’t tell us apart from the others like them, then they can’t attack us.”

“So, what? We have to catch one? How on earth are we going to do that,” asked Anthony, the resident Woodbury weasel. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

He watched as Michonne exchanged a look with Rick before unsheathing her sword. “Lore a couple close and then they can say goodbye to their brains.”

Rick stepped toward him, a semi-automatic weapon in hand. “Phillip, right?”

“Yes,” he answered, holding out his hand to shake the man’s own. That was who he was now. “Phillip Blake. I showed you to your apartments a few days ago. What you did out there was brave, Braver than any soldier I’ve ever seen.”

Rick cleared his throat, his eyes darting uncomfortably around the room and lingering on his young son, seated in a corner near Michonne with his knees pulled to his chest. “These people, they mean a lot to me.”

“I can see that.”

“Let’s get these walkers,” he said, looking back at the people behind himself.

They ended up holding the door ajar and managed to catch the attention of two or three of the walking corpses. When they approached two got arrows to their head and one had a lengthy sward driven through its skull. It was a nauseating sight.

Their ultimate goal was to mask their own scent with the scent of the dead. They gathered sheets from The Major’s bedroom and started working on dissecting the corpses in the main entryway of The Major’s residence, away from the eyes of the children. Michonne got to work on tearing head holes into the sheets while Rick dug into the blood and guts with gloved hands, smearing it all over the formerly white sheets.

“This is so disgusting,” Michonne said, wrinkling her nose as she put a sheet over her body. Rick continued smearing the gory disguise over her sheet and their interaction gave him some pause. Something was happening there. From their subtle interaction, he could tell that there was intimacy between them.

Once they were all, including the children, sufficiently covered Rick stood up, ready to continue their mission. “Michonne, Morgan, Daryl and Glen should try to get to the cars and lead the others with them. Phillip and I should probably head back to Hershel’s to get Anette and the others.”

“What about Lori?” Hershel asked.

“She’s probably at your place,” Phillip said quickly. “She’s over there a lot, isn’t she?”

“She’s not there now.” Hershel shook his head. “Last we saw her, she said she was going…here. Something about handling something at home. She honestly seemed a little spooked.”

“Well she’s not here, is she?” Phillip said impatiently. The old man was beginning to annoy him. “She must be somewhere else.”

“We’ll check other houses along the way,” Rick said, grabbing a red handled Machete from a nearby shelf and examining it carefully. “We should also save our bullets. Don’t use guns unless you have to, they’ll just draw more of those things out.”

Michonne lightly bumped her shoulder against Rick’s, getting his attention. “Be safe out there.” Her eyes quickly darted to Phillip before flitting away.

“You too,” he responded in a low voice. “Okay, let us go first. If we make it at least halfway without problems, you need to follow and head to the cars.” He looked down at his son who stood slightly behind Michonne along with Duane. “Stay close to her, alright? Everything will be fine. Just move slowly and stay together.”

The boy closed his eyes, nodding his head in understanding. “I’ll be brave. I won’t be scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared. You can be scared and brave at the same time.” He kissed the boy’s head. “Just follow their lead and it will be over before you know it. I know you can do this. Love you son.”

“Love you Dad.”

“I’ll see y’all in a few.” Morgan swung the front doors open, allowing Rick and Phillip to exit. The man breathed a sigh of relief because he was getting closer to his end goal.

Phillip Blake was there for one man and he had no intention of leaving until the said man was taken care of. He needed to right some wrongs and secure his future in this world without a Woodbury.

The two men began shuffling slowly through the chaotic streets amongst the dead and to their relief, they went unnoticed. Rick glanced behind himself as they made their way down the overrun street, watching as his family and friends followed suit, hand in hand, exiting the Major’s residence and moving in the opposite direction toward the vehicles.

Phillip and Rick walked in silence until they arrived at the Greene’s door. Rich pulled out the machete and Phillip withdrew his pistol with a silencer attached. Rick raised a brow at the weapon, but did not otherwise comment.

He raised his fist and starting banging against the door. “Anette! Carol! Lori!”

They were met with silence at first and Phillip could almost see the resignation begin to set in on the man’s face. Suddenly, the door wrenched open, revealing the gray-haired woman named Carol. “Thank goodness you’re alright,” she said, breathlessly stepping back for them to enter before they were followed.

“We have to get out of here,” Rick said as he entered. “Is everybody here?”

“It’s just me Anette, Otis, Patricia, and the kids.”

“Shane? Lori?”

She shrugged, looking nervous. “I haven’t seen them.”

Rick let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, you’re gonna need some sheets alright? Me and Phillip will get some of the dead. This is the only way to get past them. We have to smell like them and move like them is we want to make it out of here alive. Fires have broken out and there are already too many of the dead out there.” He turned to Otis who emerged from the other room. “You’re going to have to lead everyone to the cars. The others are already on their way.”

While the others gathered sheets, Rick and Phillip got started on “catching” corpses. Once they had three in their possession, they dragged them back into the house and started chopping at their guts as they did before. Anette and the children were absolutely disgusted. Beth started crying and Sophia hid behind her mother, whimpering softly.

Rick approached the distraught child, kneeling next to her. “Hey. Sophia?” She peeked up at him with one eye. “Listen to me. We’re going to be alright, okay? But we need your help, so can you do something for me?”

“What?” she asked in a small voice.

“See Otis over there?”

She nodded.

“He won’t let anything happen to you and neither will your Mama. All you have to do is walk and stay as quiet as you can, but you’ll be okay because you’ve got all these good people with you and you all will protect each other so we can get out, okay? Can you do that?”

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I think so.”

“Okay.” He looked up at Carol. “Wanna help her get covered with her sheet? We have to be quick. Don’t get it on your skin.”

Once all the inhabitants of the room had covered themselves in blood and guts, Rick led them to the door allowing Otis to step out first, followed by Anette and the others. He told Otis to tell the others to head out of Woodbury once the cars are full. He and Phillip would follow. “You can go with them if you want,” he said to Phillip. “I need to check to see if there are any others.”

“Like Lori?” Phillip asked, making no move to leave. “No, I’ll stay with you.”

Once everyone was out of the house Phillip and Rick followed after them, surveying the destructed town for any signs of life. Some of the guardsmen were bitten and some were shot after The Major made the call for the gates to open, but many, like Phillip, who wasn’t even part of the guard, managed to narrowly escape with their lives.

Phillip remembered seeing Major Gavin’s Humvee speeding away with Johnson driving and Greely in the front passenger seat after Detroit’s stabbing and the final fatal shot was fired.

As they neared the center of town, they passed a house next to the burning house with the dwindling flames overrun that was overrun with the dead. The doors were wide open, windows were broken and loud snarling noises emanated out into the street. Phillip shut his eyes, feeling the heaviness of guilt as he looked away and continued walking.

He would not let this world break him. He couldn’t be weak anymore.

Weakness got people killed in this world.

“In here,” Phillip said in a loud whisper as they passed the house across from the armory where earlier he hid in the alleyway. Many of the buildings were wide open and the dead were busy feeding. “I think I heard someone.”

He started towards the door, knowing Rick, with his uprightness, would follow. Instead of knocking, he pushed the door open, entering the house with his gun drawn. “Hello?”

He heard Rick shut the door behind them as he also entered, weapon at the ready. “What exactly did you hear?”

“Sounded like somebody crying for help.”  He moved through the room with a catlike prowl. “Maybe it’s Lori I’ll check upstairs, you stay and check the rooms down here.”

Rick gave him a long look before nodding slowly, but he made no move to follow the instruction until Phillip began ascending the stairs. Once Phillip was upstairs, he moved through the rooms with determination, making sure to make strong deliberate steps with his booted feet. His perusal of the rooms revealed nothing, of course, and soon he was returning downstairs to find Rick standing where he left him.

“Nobody down here.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Phillip said, lowering his gun. “I could have sworn I heard something. It was almost as if something was calling out for me to enter. I guess we’ll have to try somewhere else, huh?”

“I think we should head to the cars. Doesn’t seem to be much left here.”

“Maybe,” Phillip hummed. “But before we do that...” He raised his pistol once again. “We have to take care of something first. I will be heading back to the cars, but you won’t be.”

Rick stared down the barrel of the gun before raising his eyes to meet Phillip’s. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you think?” Phillip laughed maniacally. “Because. You. Are. A. Murderer. You ruined Woodbury. All you had to do was wait and be smart, but you just had to push him over the edge. You just had to get Detroit killed. You just _had_ to take that fucking gun and shoot The Major in the head in front of everybody.”

“I’m not the one who opened the gate and let the walkers in,” Rick sneered. “And when you kill me, what would that make you? Sure as hell won’t be a saint. Gavin ruined Woodbury.”

“He does this all the time,” Phillip spat. “His men had this under control until you went and shot him in the fucking head and caused all that chaos and confusion. That’s how Gavin leads. Through fear. And once everybody was scared enough, they would have gotten rid of the dead. Just like the time after Nick died.”

“That’s ridiculous. People would have gotten killed.”

“And a lot less would have died if you did not shoot Gene Gavin!” He bellowed. “My family’s gone because of you and your impulsiveness. I know they are. That house we just passed with all the dead tearing at those people? That’s where they would have been. The one burning next to it? That was my home!”

“I’m sorry that happened, but that’s not my fault. That’s on him, not me. I wasn’t going stand by to let that man terrorize me and my family and the people who live here. I did what I had to do and what I had to do was kill him,” Rick said with conviction. “Now, I don’t want to have to kill you too. So, put down the gun and maybe we can let this all go.”

Phillip laughed, rubbing his forehead. “You’re a good man Rick, but good men like you get people killed and they never truly stay good. You turn into the worst of the worst or you die. Those people out there don’t need a good man. Look how easily you trusted me.”

“Why do you want to avenge a man that let in the walkers that killed your family? He’s the reason they’re dead.”

“Avenge him?” Phillip threw back his head in laughter. “This isn’t about him. I hated Gene Gavin, but he was what Woodbury needed. We were surviving and somebody would have eventually gotten rid of him in a less chaotic way. They would have been a hero and that somebody would have been me. You did this! Our home is gone because of you.”

“This place is filled with nothing but delusional fucking psychopaths.” Rick shook his head. “Okay, don’t put down the gun Phillip. The longer you go on with this rant the less likely it is that I’ll die today. Trust me on that one.”

“I’ll tell your people you died nobly. You went down like a hero and I tried to save you, and I barely made it out alive. Then, I’ll become their leader because they will need one. They don’t need another man like you and Gavin to ruin their only chance. But don’t worry, I’ll tell your girlfriend you said good things before they got you. We’ll rebuild Woodbury together and maybe we’ll even get together once everyone puts up a vote for a brave man like me to lead. I’ll bet she’s excellent in bed.”

Rick clenched his teeth. “Don’t talk about her,” he spat in a low growl. “So, what? You’re planning to be Woodbury’s next dictator?”

“Not a bad idea.” He tilted his head, as if in thought, a maniacal grin on his face. “But I was thinking more along the lines of a governor or something. Put some false idea democracy into the mix.”

“As much as I’m enjoying hearing about your little plans, I’d rather be with my people right now. My son is waiting for me to come back and I am going back because I made him a promise and I keep my promises.” Rick took a step back and Phillip waved the gun frantically moving closer to Rick until the mouth of the gun pressed forcefully against Rick’s chest.

“I already told you you’re not leaving here today. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

“Okay,” Rick said, nodding. “Well you’ll have to stay here with me. The walkers might come searching though, because I don’t have a silencer like you.”

“What?” The confusion on Phillip’s face quickly morphed into one of horror as a loud bang rang through the room and he felt a searing pain in his thigh. His eyes widened and Rick quickly pushed his hand away as a bullet from his silenced gun discharged hitting a nearby window.

Rick knocked the gun out of his hand and gave him a swift kick to the abdomen as he doubled over in pain. Rick then reached down to pick up the gun, putting his own away and pointing it at Phillip’s head. “The only person staying here is you. I’m going to walk out that door and you’ll stay right here to become walker food.”

“Fuck you.”

He fired another bullet into Phillips’s leg and the man shouted in pain until he felt something large and heavy hit him on the back of his head. His ears were ringing and his head felt tingly as the world went black.

“Shut up.” Rick stood over the bleeding, unconscious man contemplating his next move. It was only a matter of time before the walkers would start drawing toward the source of the noise. He grabbed his machete moving towards the door without a backward glance at Phillip.

Luckily, the walkers were moving toward the alley near the house where the bullet had broken the window. He shuffled out of the house moving as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. When he arrived at the far side of Woodbury, where the cars were parked he was relieved to see the RV.

Before he could fully lift his hand to bang on the door, it flung open and a pair of feminine hands pounced at him, pulling at his sheet leading him into the vehicle. He was met with a tight embrace. “I’m so happy you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing Michonne’s back comfortingly. “I’m okay. Everything is fine now.”

“We heard a gunshot,” Glenn said. “Where’s Phillip?”

Rick didn’t respond to Glen’s question hoping he would take a hint. Michonne pulled away and Carl replaced her, clutching at his father for dear life.

“We found Andrea and a few others on the way to the cars,” Glenn explained. “They got out already, but we wanted to wait for you.”

“Shane and Lori?”

“Didn’t see them. We were hoping they would be with you.”

Rick nodded in understanding as Michonne pulled at the sheet lifting it over his head to discard of it. He was in an almost trancelike state.

“Something happened out there?”

Rick glanced down at his son. “I’ll explain later.”

Other than the men who were with Gene Gavin that evening, nobody knew that he was the one who fired the two shots that killed him. They didn’t see the hidden gun coming and they didn’t expect to see the man clutching at his stomach in pain before another bullet entered between his eyes.

Even though he was a cop, he never killed a man before. The King County sheriff’s department didn’t see too much action. He didn’t know what came over him that night, but seeing Major Gavin stab Detroit, an innocent man, to death in cold blood was enough to send him over the edge. A man like that was too dangerous to lead let alone live in the new world. In that moment, he did the only thing he could think to do, which was to remove the threat before he could consume them.

It was purely survival instinct and he had no regrets whatsoever.

“Let’s get out of her. Go find the others.” He wrapped an arm around Michonne’s waist, not caring who was watching as he led her further into the RV, past the Greene’s and a couple familiar but unknown faces.

The RV pulled out of the burning community driving down the deserted Georgia road save for the few wandering walkers.


	15. The Aftermath

_“A zombie apocalypse isn’t the most jovial situation.”_

– Danai Gurira

* * *

 

About thirty days after the burning of Woodbury and the murder of Gene Gavin, the group found a sliver of hope that all wasn’t lost in the world. It had been a regular day, consisting of setting up a temporary camp in the woods and scavenging to replenish the limited supply of food they managed to salvage before their escape.

The group was larger than the last time they were hunkered down in the woods. Larger, but less hostile. They were now twenty strong.

As before, people gravitated to Rick for guidance. They wanted, needed, leadership and he begrudgingly wore the heavy crown of leadership.

“I wish I had a cheeseburger,” Carl sighed as his kept his eye trained on the distance, waiting for his father’s return. He had joined Michonne at the top of the RV, keeping her company as she kept watch for walkers or other intruders. He had been especially drawn to her as off late often opting to stay with her instead of with Carol and the other kids.

“And I still wish I had some soy milk.” Michonne prodded at her dry cereal shaking her head slightly. “Just one final drop would do.”

He squinted, the late afternoon sun in his eye. “Do you think they found anything good?”

Michonne grinned at the boy. Their conversations often shifted to their less than appealing food choices and they were usually left reminiscing on all the flavors they missed. “Like a Big Kat or twenty?”

“Yeah.” His stomach growled and he was thankful it wasn’t embarrassingly loud. He took a sip of his water, reaching out for a handful of cereal. “Do you think they’ll find Shane…and my Mom?”

She had her doubts, but she hoped for his sake they would. “Maybe. If not, it’s possible they just went in a different direction from us. We don’t know. Anything is possible.”

“The walkers could have gotten them.”

“They didn’t get us,” she pointed out. She lifted the binoculars to her eyes, looking across the clearing for signs of Rick. They were looking for a stable water source today or possibly a house or shelter that was more permanent than their tent city. They were lucky enough to have used a Woodburian supply truck as one of their getaway vehicles.

Some suggested going back to attempt to salvage what little was left of Woodbury, but others were reluctant. Some had suggested leaving Georgia in hopes of finding something better elsewhere, but Rick was reluctant. She remembered the discussion they had the night after Woodbury was overrun and ultimately destroyed.

* * *

They had driven out to an old campground that was surprisingly empty, with not a walker in sight. Once everyone had settled into their own small whispering groups, she had climbed to the top of the RV, to find Rick sitting alone with his gun in hand.

Michonne could see from his grave expression and his unfocused stare that he was bothered by something. There was an underlying anger mixed with his somber mood.

“Hey,” she said, sitting across from him, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I killed Gene Gavin.”

She glanced up, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected confession. Instead of speaking, she offered a reassuring look and decided to let him continue at his own pace.

“Phillip too.” He imagined the latter man had since been torn apart by walkers and was walking amongst them. There was no way the man would have survived a hoard with a gunshot wound to his leg.

She sat quietly mulling over his words, but there was none of the judgement or disapproval he expected in her demeanor. “He tried something while you were out looking for the others.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he admitted. “But I had too. He would have killed me. He knew I killed Gene and he wanted revenge. He wanted to feel powerful I guess.”

“I knew something wasn’t right with that man,” she said quietly. “There was a bit of crazy behind his eyes that I didn’t trust. That paired with the whole helpless act…” she shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re alright. You made it and he didn’t.”

He glanced down at the gun in his hand with a pensive expression. “I’ve never killed a person before. I’m a…I was a cop, but I never had to do that. Now, I’ve killed two people over the span of a few hours. I don’t know why I did it.”

She knew he was talking about the former man and not the latter. She supposed seeing the murder of an innocent man, was something that could evoke a certain rage from even the gentlest of people and drive them to shocking means of defense.

“He killed Detroit.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears. “He killed him for nothing. He was a dangerous man and you did what you did to protect us all from someone like him. He was too far gone.”

He chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head as he stared off into the night. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” He ran his hand over the gun. “I’m glad I did it and I don’t regret it for a second. Does that make me a bad person?”

Michonne shook her head. “Things are different now. The world is different, and we’re adapting to it. I don’t think that makes us bad.”

“It makes me worry about Carl’s future in all of this,” he sighed. “I don’t want them to know yet.”

She reached out, taking his gun free hand in hers. “I don’t plan on saying anything.”

* * *

Now in the present, she glanced over at Carl who now lived with an uncertain future and a potentially bleak present. “What do you think Morgan will make tonight. I feel like we’re in for some delicious rabbit stew again. Daryl caught one this morning.”

“I can’t believe I like that stuff now,” Carl laughed, his whole face lighting up. “Dad used to always say I was a picky eater. I guess I’m not anymore.”

“Same here.” She had been eating things you couldn’t pay her too eat before the world basically ended.

“Hey Michonne?”

“Yeah?”

He avoided her eyes. “Do you…do you like my Dad?”

His question surprised her, and she froze for a moment before answering in a casual tone. “Of course. Everyone here loves your Dad Carl.”

“Yeah, I know.” He picked up a twig he was playing with earlier, drawing imaginary lines around his feet. “But, they don’t kiss him on the lips,” he mumbled.

“What?”

He sighed, his cheeks growing red. “I saw you and my Dad kissing outside. I couldn’t sleep was following you outside so I could ask you to read another story.”

She felt embarrassment coursing through her at what the little boy may have potentially seen. She hoped it was mostly PG. She was mostly sure it was, since their camp offered little privacy. She looked him in the eye and said, “I like him very much.”

“Are you gonna get married like my mom and the…the man?”

“Well things aren’t exactly like they were before,” she said carefully. “But maybe that’s something we can talk about some other time okay?” She would much prefer if Rick handled this type of delicate conversation.

“I like you too,” he said earnestly. “You’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve been called cool.”

They were silent for a moment, both staring off into the distance. She wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been, but Rick and the small group he left with had been gone for a considerable amount of time. She stood from her chair getting a three-sixty view of the surrounding area, to make sure there were no approaching walkers.

“They’ve been gone a long time.” Carl said exactly what she was thinking.

“Maybe they found something. A crate of chocolate?”

“Walkers,” he mumbled, low enough that he thought she wouldn’t hear.

“Hey,” she said tenderly looking down at the boy she was sure was scared out of his mind in this new world. He had taken on a certain kind of pessimism as of late, always wary that people would leave and never return. She thought of her own son, and how he would cope with this life were he to grow up in an apocalyptic world.

It made her wonder what kind of psychological damage this new world would do to a child as they adapted to a new normal. He was coping with his fears, but at what cost?

“Your Dad is gonna come back.” She reclaimed her seat, attempting to meet his eyes. “You know, my Mom used to say that I have a sixth sense.”

He looked up then. She had his full attention. “A sixth sense?”

“Uh huh,” she said, folding her hands under her chin attempting to keep a casual air that will hold his attention. “When I was younger I could always tell when something was wrong with my family. When my sister broke her arm, I knew right away she was in trouble. When my brother had an asthma attack, I left my classroom at school and walked all the way to where he went to school and I was the one that found him. I just always knew something was wrong.”

“So, you’ll know if something’s wrong with Dad?”

She chose her next words wisely, because while hope was good, it shouldn’t be blind. “I don’t know, but something tells me he’s alright. It’s a gut feeling. In here.” She pointed. “And I’m sure deep down, you can feel he’s okay too. You shouldn’t imagine bad things happening. I believe if you think positively, you can transfer that positivity anywhere. Even to your Dad and he’ll feel it too no matter how far away he is.”

“Okay. I think he’s okay too,” he smiled, but then his face fell. “Michonne?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I feel something bad has happened though, but not to my Dad?” He looked out toward the trees again. “I still think the walkers got my Mom and Shane. They’re dead.”

Her heart was breaking for the boy. He shouldn’t have to think such morbid thoughts at such a young age. He should be out running around and enjoying the carefreeness of childhood.

“There.” He pointed towards the trees facing north. “They’re coming.”

She hastily, brought the binoculars to her eyes, spotting the land Rover Rick left in. She let out a sigh of relief that it was them, back before sundown, and not another horde. “They’re back.”

Dale took over Michonne’s place keeping watch allowing her to approach the arriving group. Rick was the first one out of the vehicle, pulling Carl into a hug as his eyes found Michonne strolling towards them.

“How’d it go?”

“We found a guy,” he drawled giving her a quick half-hug.

She peered around him, not seeing anybody else other than the three that left with him. “What guy?”

“He ran off,” Glenn said, slamming his door shut. “They must have had a camp or something nearby. He looked pretty clean. He said he was a doctor.”

“So, what does this mean? Did you find something?”

“Nothing directly related to him,” Rick said, “But it could mean something good for us. We went after him and we came across a local prison. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but it’s the perfect place for all of us. There’s a fence to keep out the walkers and the changing weather.”

The pair started walking back toward the center of the camp, Glen and the other two occupants of the car following. “You want to move everybody there?”

“If possible. We got some work to do first though.”

People began exiting their tents or moving their outdoor chairs closer to the center of their tent city. They were all waiting to hear what Rick had to say.

“We think we’ve found something. Shelter,” he announced loudly to the gathering group. “It’s a prison. It has an intact fence and most of the building looks sturdy. There’s some damage from the military bombings, but it looks fine otherwise.”

“A prison?” A woman asked incredulously looking to her husband. “Are there prisoners inside?”

“That’s our issue,” he said. “From the look ‘o things, the place is overrun by walkers. There’s a lot in either in prison clothes or riot gear.”

Gasps and hushed whispers erupted through the camp as people wondered out loud what this meant for them and what they would have to do.

“How are we going to get them out?” A bespectacled man yelled.

“There’s two set of fences, we just have to lore them out and lock them in a certain portion of the prison, then then take over the other part for ourselves.” He looked around at the mixed emotions on the faces around him. “We can’t stay out here in the open forever. This is our best bet. If you don’t want to do it, nobody’s forcing you, but I’m gonna try it.”

Daryl stood up from his crouched position in the dirt. “You need help, I’m your guy. I can take out a lot with my crossbow.”

“I’m getting better with my katana too.”

Rick nodded. “Our goal isn’t to try to kill them all. That’s probably near impossible. We just need a clear path and an empty cell block and we can work out the rest from there. There’s probably useful supplies on the inside.”

“I agree,” said Hershel. “We’ve got very little fuel and ammo left. Rick’s right, we can’t keep running around in circles.”

“Did y’all at least find any food while you were out though?” another Woodburian asked. “I’m getting tired of eating the same shit every day.”

“Uh, we found a Mega Mart,” Glenn offered looking to Rick who looked less than pleased with picky eater. “We didn’t bring back too much though; the building wasn’t stable. It’s somewhere we can revisit later with more people to help. Shelter is a priority though.”

Rick finished briefing them on their findings and plans, while Glenn and the other’s brought the supplies into the RV for storage and inventory. Once everyone returned to their routines, he Michonne and Carl made their way to the food tent to grab a plate of one of Morgan’s creations.

Carl expressed his happiness of having rabbit stew over the unfortunate alternatives they’ve had in the past.

After most of the camp’s inhabitants retreated into their tents and vehicles for the night and Carl was sound asleep, Rick joined Michonne outside where she sat on a fallen log. 

“These people,” she said when he sat down beside her. “They have a lot of faith in you. I  think you’re a welcome change from the old guy. You’re way more personable. More handsome too.”

“I know they do,” he smiled sadly. “It’s a lot of pressure sometimes. How do you take over from a psychopath? Sometimes they need firmness, but I don’t want this to look like a dictatorship.”

“Well it’s not _exactly_ a democracy,” she pointed out. “And I think that’s okay. We’re not at a place where that will be useful to us yet. Now it’s about surviving and finding shelter for our little group.”

He glanced over at her, a smile forming on his lips. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say?”

“It’s a gift. Plus, I’ve been in therapy before and I picked up a thing or two,” she shrugged, before bursting into laughter. “Speaking of knowing what to say, Carl asked about us. He saw us kissing a few nights ago.”

Rick’s eyes popped open and he nearly choked on air. “Just kissing, right?”

“I would hope so,” she snorted. “We’ve gone PG for a while now, Sherriff.”

“Well, what did you say? How did he feel about what he saw?”

She smiled, wondering if should let him sweat. “I told him that I liked you and he said he thinks I’m _super cool_.” She used an exaggerated tone for the last part.

“Like me huh?” He raised a brow, mischief brewing in his eyes. “Like me or like me like me?”

She nudged his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.” She glanced down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “You should talk to him about it though. I figured it would be more appropriate that way with you being his Dad and all.”

“Alright.” He rested a hand on her knee, shaking lightly to get her full attention. “Anything else I missed?”

“He’s been saying a lot of…odd things lately. Like today, he told me he was sure that walkers got his mother and Shane. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see them again.”

Rick’s shoulders fell as he rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Well that’s a strong possibility. If they managed to get out of that, they’re really lucky.”

“I just think a boy his age shouldn’t be without hope. The world seems hopeless, but he’s basically the future of this world,” she said. “He shouldn’t have to fantasize about losing people. He even thought walkers had gotten you.”

“It can happen though,” he sighed, rubbing her back comfortingly. “None of us are safe.”

“I know that, but there has to be something out there,” she whispered, mostly to herself than him. She refused to believe all hope was lost. There had to be something out there that can still resemble normal civilization. “We can’t live in tents forever. I think this prison thing is a good idea. We can build something.”

“Yeah, and we won’t have to worry so much about water. The doctor, Bob or something or the other, he mentioned a stream not too far from the prison,” he said. “I think that’s what he uses for a water source.”

“His name was Bob?”

“What is it?” He asked noticing how her posture stiffened and her eyes shifted rapidly.

“It’s just…” She physically deflated, struggling to find the right words to explain what she was thinking. “My brother-in-law. His name was Bob. I guess I just let myself get a little too hopeful for a second there.”

His brow furrowed and he took her hand in his. “Too hopeful? This is coming from the woman who basically just told me the world might not be hopeless yet.”

“What are the odds though?” she asked, a pensive expression overtaking her face. “I feel like they’re still out there, but…” She turned to meet his eyes. “What did he look like?”

Rick twisted his mouth to the side trying to recollect the man he had a brief exchange in the woods with. “He was black and about my height. It was a very quick exchange. He asked if we were with the state.”

He pulled her to him, kissing her forehead as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m coming tomorrow when you go back to the prison. I need to see for myself.”

“I was actually preparing to beg you to come with us this time,” he said as a smile formed on his lips.

“No begging this time.” Her tone was light, but she felt the anxiety that often plagued her returning. What if it wasn’t him? What if was? Was Sasha still around? Her mother?

She wanted to believe they were. She wanted to follow her own advice to Carl. She wanted to believe in that mythical sixth sense her mother swore she had, as if it wasn’t just a coping mechanism. She wanted a lot in that moment.

The thoughts of her past she often tried to bury, in a desperate attempt to keep her sanity, returned.

Rick nudged her shoulder. “You okay?”

She found herself fighting back the emotions that threatened to break free. “No.”

His hand moved in slow circles around her back. “You wanna talk?”

She shook her head from side to side, willing the tears not to fall. “Let’s just…sit.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see it, and the pair sat in silence under the stars, with Rick keeping a watchful eye of their surroundings and Michonne entangled with her own inner turmoil.

* * *

 

**It’s back!**

**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the reviews. I have a lot of cool things planned going forward.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some time, but an update is here at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I also post at fan fiction under the same name.


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